AC  8  . P37  1912 
Park,  Roswell,  1852-1914* 
The  evil  eye,  thanatology, 
and  other  essays 


THE  EVIL  E 


THANATOLOGY 


AND  OTHER  ESSAYS 


ROSWELL  PARK,  M.  D.,  LL.D.  (Yale) 


RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

THE  GORHAM  PRESS 
BOSTON 


Copyright,  19x2,  by  Richard  G.  Badger 


All  Rights  Reserved 


The  Gorham  Press,  Boston,  U.  S  A, 


To 

Sir  William  Osier,  M.  D.,  LL.D., 
F.  R.  C.  P.,  etc. 

Regius  Professor  of  Medicine, 
Oxford  University. 


Ideal  Scholar  and  Friend. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/evileyethanatolo00park_0 


PREFACE 


Responsibility  for  the  following  collection  of  es¬ 
says  and  addresses  (occasional  papers)  rests  perhaps 
not  more  with  their  writer,  who  was  not  unwilling 
to  see  them  presented  in  a  single  volume,  than  with 
those  of  his  friends  who  were  complimentary  enough 
to  urge  their  assemblage  and  publication  in  this  shape. 
They  partake  of  the  character  of  studies  in  that  bor¬ 
der-land  of  anthropology,  biology,  philology  and 
history  which  surrounds  the  immediate  domain  of 
medical  and  general  science.  This  ever  offers  a 
standing  invitation  and  an  enduring  fascination  for 
those  who  will  but  raise  their  eyes  from  the  fertile  and 
arable  soil  in  which  they  concentrate  their  most  ar¬ 
duous  labors.  Too  close  confinement  in  this  field 
may  result  in  greater  commercial  yield,  but  the  fra¬ 
grance  of  the  clover  detracts  not  at  all  from  the  value 
of  the  hay,  nor  do  borderland  studies  result  other¬ 
wise  than  in  enlargement  of  the  boundaries  of  one’s 
storm  center  of  work. 

No  strictly  technical  nor  professional  papers  have 
been  reprinted  herein,  while  several  of  those  which 
appear  do  so  for  the  first  time. 

Buffalo,  December,  1912. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  Page 

I  The  Evil  Eye . ... .  9 

II  Thanatology . .  .......  32 

III  Serpent-Myths  and  Serpent  Worship.  .  .  49 

IV  Iatro-Theurgic  Symbolism  . .  70 

V  The  Relation  of  the  Grecian  Mysteries  to 

the  Foundation  of  Christianity .  92 

VI  The  Knights  Hospitallar  of  St.  John  of 

Jerusalem  .  132 

VII  Giordano  Bruno .  164 

VIII  Student  Life  in  the  Middle  Ages .  199 

IX  A  Study  of  Medical  Words,  Deeds  and 

Men  . 233 

X  The  Career  of  the  Army  Surgeon .  265 

XI  The  Evolution  of  the  Surgeon  from  the 

Barber  .  296 

XII  The  Story  of  the  Discovery  of  the  Cir¬ 
culation  . . . .  .,  314 

XIII  History  of  Anaesthesia  and  the  Introduc¬ 
tion  of  Anaesthetics  in  Surgery .  351 


I 

THE  EVIL  EYE 

BELIEF  in  magic  has  been  called  by  Tylor, 
one  of  the  greatest  authorities  on  the  occult 
sciences,  “one  of  the  most  pernicious  delu¬ 
sions  that  ever  vexed  mankind.”  It  has 
been  at  all  times  among  credulous  and  superstitious 
people  made  the  tool  of  envy,  which  Bacon  well  des¬ 
cribed  as  the  vilest  and  most  depraved  of  all  feelings. 
Bacon,  moreover,  singled  out  love  and  envy  as  the 
only  two  affections  which  have  been  noted  to  fasci¬ 
nate,  or  bewitch,  since  they  both  have  “vehement 
wishes,  frame  themselves  readily  into  imaginations 
and  suggestions  and  come  easily  into  the  eye.”  He 
also  noted  the  fact  that  in  the  Scriptures  envy  was 
called  the  Evil  Eye. 

It  is  to  this  interesting  subject  in  anthropological 
and  folk-lore  study,  namely,  the  Evil  Eye,  that  I  wish 
to  invite  your  attention  for  a  time.  Belief  in  it  is, 
of  course,  inseparable  from  credence  in  a  personal 
devil  or  some  personal  evil  and  malign  influence,  but 
in  modern  times  and  among  people  who  are  supposed 
to  be  civilized  has  been  regarded  ordinarily  as  an 
attribute  of  the  devil.  Consideration  of  the  subject 
is  inseparable,  too,  from  a  study  of  the  expressions 


A  Presidential  Address  before  the  Buffalo  Society  of  Natural 
Sciences. 

9 


1  o 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


“to  fascinate”  and  “to  bewitch.”  Indeed  this  word 
“fascination”  has  a  peculiar  etymological  interest.  It 
seems  to  be  a  Latin  form  of  the  older  Greek  verb 
“baskanein,”  or  else  to  be  descended  from  a  common 
root.  No  matter  what  its  modern  signification,  origin¬ 
ally  it  meant  to  bewitch  or  to  subject  to  an  evil  influ¬ 
ence,  particularly  by  means  of  eyes  or  tongue  or  by 
casting  of  spells.  Later  it  came  to  mean  the  influenc¬ 
ing  of  the  imagination,  reason  or  will  in  an  uncontrol¬ 
lable  manner,  and  now,  as  generally  used,  means  to 
captivate  or  to  allure.  Its  use  in  our  language  is  of  it¬ 
self  an  indication  of  the  superstition  so  generally  prev¬ 
alent  centuries  ago.  It  is,  however,  rather  a  polite 
term  for  which  we  have  the  more  vulgar  equivalent 
“to  bewitch,”  used  in  a  signification  much  more  like 
the  original  meaning. 

Belief  in  an  evil  power  constantly  at  work  has  ex¬ 
isted  from  absolutely  prehistoric  times.  It  has  been 
more  or  less  tacitly  adopted  and  sanctioned  by  vari¬ 
ous  creeds  or  religious  beliefs,  particularly  so  by  the 
church  of  Rome,  by  mediaeval  writers  and  by  writers 
on  occult  science.  Even  now  it  exists  not  only 
among  savage  nations  but  everywhere  among  com¬ 
mon  people.  We  to-day  may  call  it  superstition,  but 
there  was  a  time  when  it  held  enormous  sway  over 
mankind,  and  exercised  a  tremendous  influence.  In 
its  present  form  it  consists  often  of  a  belief  that  cer¬ 
tain  individuals  possess  a  blighting  power,  and  the 
expression  in  England  to  “overlook”  is  not  only  very 
common,  but  an  easily  recognizable  persistence  of  the 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


1 1 


old  notion.  Evidently  St.  Paul  shared  this  prevalent 
belief  when  he  rebuked  the  foolish  Galatians,  saying 
as  in  our  common  translation,  “Who  hath  bewitched 
you  that  ye  should  not  obey  the  truth?”  In  the  Vul¬ 
gate  the  word  translated  “bewitch”  is  “fascinare” 
exactly  the  same  word  as  used  by  Virgil,  and  refer¬ 
ring  to  the  influence  of  the  evil  eye.  Cicero  himself 
discussed  the  word  “fascination,”  and  he  explained 
the  Latin  verb  invidere  and  noun  invidia  as  meaning 
to  look  closely  at;  whence  comes  our  word  envy,  or 
evil  eye. 

All  the  ancients  believed  that  from  the  eyes  of 
envious  or  angry  people  there  was  projected  some 
malign  influence  which  could  infect  the  air  and 
penetrate  and  corrupt  both  living  creatures  and  inani¬ 
mate  objects.  Woyciki,  in  his  Polish  Folk-lore,  re¬ 
lates  the  story  of  a  most  unhappy  Slav,  who  though 
possessed  of  a  most  loving  heart  realized  that  he  was 
afflicted  with  the  evil  eye,  and  at  last  blinded  himself 
in  order  that  he  might  not  cast  a  spell  over  his  chil¬ 
dren.  Even  to-day,  among  the  Scotch  Highlanders, 
if  a  stranger  look  too  admiringly  at  a  cow  the  peo¬ 
ple  believe  that  she  will  waste  away  of  the  evil  eye, 
and  they  give  him  of  her  milk  to  drink  in  order  to 
break  the  spell.  Plutarch  was  sure  that  certain  men’s 
eyes  were  destructive  to  infants  and  young  animals, 
and  he  believed  that  the  Thebans  could  thus  destroy 
not  only  the  young  but  strong  men.  The  classical 
writers  are  so  full  of  allusions  to  this  subject  that  it 
is  easy  to  see  where  people  during  the  Middle  Ages 


12 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


got  their  prevalent  belief  in  witches.  Thus,  Pliny 
said  that  those  possessed  of  the  evil  eye  would  not 
sink  in  water,  even  if  weighed  down  with  clothes; 
hence  the  mediaeval  ordeal  by  water; — which  had, 
however,  its  inconveniences  for  the  innocent,  for  if  the 
reputed  witch  sank  he  evidently  was  not  guilty,  but  if 
he  floated  he  was  counted  guilty  and  then  burned. 

Not  only  was  this  effect  supposed  to  be  produced 
by  the  fascinating  eye,  but  even  by  the  voice,  which, 
some  asserted,  could  blast  trees,  kill  children  and  des¬ 
troy  animals.  In  Pliny’s  time  special  laws  were  en¬ 
acted  against  injury  to  crops  by  incantation  or  fascina¬ 
tion  ;  but  the  Romans  went  even  farther  than  this,  and 
believed  that  their  gods  were  envious  of  each  other 
and  cast  their  evil  eyes  upon  the  less  powerful  of 
their  own  circle;  hence  the  caduceus  which  Mercury 
always  carried  as  a  protection. 

To  be  the  reputed  possessor  of  an  evil  eye  was  an 
exceeding  great  misfortune.  Solomon  lent  himself  to 
the  belief  when  he  enjoined,  “Eat  thou  not  the  bread 
of  him  that  hath  an  evil  eye.”  (Prov.  23:6).  The 
most  inconvenient  country  in  which  to  have  this  repu¬ 
tation  to-day  is  Italy,  and  especially  in  Naples.  The 
Italians  apply  the  term  jettatore  to  the  individual  thus 
suspected,  and  to  raise  the  cry  of  “ Jettatore ”  in  a 
Neapolitan  crowd  even  to-day  is  to  cause  a  speedy 
stampede.  For  the  Italians  the  worst  of  all  is  the 
“jettatore  di  bambini,”  or  the  fascinator  of  infants. 
Elworthy  relates  the  case  of  a  gentleman  who  on  three 
occasions  acted  in  Naples  in  the  capacity  of  sponsor; 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


13 


singularly  all  three  children  died,  whereupon  he  at 
once  got  the  reputation  of  having  the  “malocchio”  to 
such  an  extent  that  mothers  would  take  all  sorts  of 
precautions  to  keep  their  children  out  of  his  sight.  The 
great  Bacon  lent  himself  also  to  the  belief  to  such  an 
extent  as  to  advise  the  carrying  on  one’s  person  of 
certain  articles,  such  as  rue,  or  a  wolf’s  tail  or  even 
an  onion,  by  which  the  evil  influence  was  supposed  to 
be  averted. 

A  most  interesting  work  was  written  by  Valletta 
and  published  in  Naples  in  1787.  It  was  practically 
a  treatise  upon  fascination  and  the  jettatore.  Valletta 
himself  was  a  profound  believer  in  all  this  sort  of 
thing,  and  finished  up  his  work  by  offering  rewards 
for  answers  to  certain  questions,  among  which  were 
the  following : —  “Which  jettatore  is  most  powerful, 
he  who  has  or  he  who  has  not  a  wig?  Whether  monks 
are  more  powerful  than  others?  To  what  distance 
does  the  influence  of  the  jettatore  extend,  and  wheth¬ 
er  it  operates  more  to  the  side,  front  or  back?  What 
words  in  general  ought  one  to  repeat  to  escape  the 
evil  eye?” 

In  ancient  times  it  was  believed  that  women  had 
greater  power  of  fascination  then  men,  a  belief  to 
which  our  sex  still  hold  at  the  present  day,  although 
in  modern  times  the  evil  eye  proper  is  supposed  to  be 
possessed  by  men  rather  than  by  women ;  monks  espe¬ 
cially,  ever  since  the  establishment  of  religious  or¬ 
ders,  being  considered  to  possess  this  fatal  influence. 
Curiously  enough,  the  late  Pope,  Pius  IX,  was  sup- 


14 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


posed  to  be  a  most  pronounced  jettatore,  and  the  most 
devout  Catholics  would  point  two  fingers  at  him  even 
while  receiving  his  blessing.  Let  me  quote  Elworthy 
in  this  connection: —  “Ask  a  Roman  about  the  late 
Pope’s  evil  eye,  and  he  will  answer,  ‘They  say  so,  and 
it  really  seems  to  be  true.  If  he  had  not  the  jettatura 
it  is  very  odd  that  everything  he  blessed  made  fiasco. 
We  did  very  well  in  the  campaign  against  the  Austri¬ 
ans  in  ’48  ;  we  were  winning  battle  after  battle  and  all 
was  gayety  and  hope,  when  suddenly  he  blessed  the 
cause  and  everything  went  to  the  bad  at  once.  Nothing 
succeeds  with  anybody  or  anything  when  he  wishes 
well  to  them.  When  he  went  to  S.  Agnese  to  hold 
a  great  festival  down  went  the  floor  and  the  people 
were  all  smashed  together.  Then  he  visited  the 
Column  to  the  Madonna  in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna  and 
blessed  it  and  the  workmen.  Of  course  one  fell  from 
the  scaffold  the  same  day  and  killed  himself.  He  ar¬ 
ranged  to  meet  the  King  of  Naples  at  Porto 
d’Anzio,  when  up  came  a  violent  gale  and  storm  that 
lasted  a  week.  Another  arrangement  was  made  and 
then  came  the  fracas  about  the  ex-Queen  of  Spain.’  ” 
The  superstition  of  the  evil  eye  and  of  witchcraft 
goes  everywhere  with  the  belief  in  the  power  of  trans¬ 
formation,  which  at  certain  periods  of  history  has 
been  so  prevalent  as  to  account  for  many  of  the  stor¬ 
ies  of  ancient  mythology,  and  will  account  even  for 
such  nursery  stories  as  that  of  Little  Red  Riding 
Hood,  as  well  as  for  the  old-world  belief  in  the  were - 
wolf.  Indeed,  a  common  expression  of  to-day  re- 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


minds  one  of  this  old  belief,  since  it  is  a  common  say¬ 
ing  to  be  ready  to  “jump  out  of  one’s  skin  for  joy.’’ 
This  belief  in  transformation  has  begotten  an  ever¬ 
present  dread  of  ill  omens  which  is  even  now  one  of 
the  most  prevalent  of  superstitions.  In  Somerset,  to 
see  a  hare  cross  the  path  in  front  of  one  is  a  sign  of 
death.  In  India  they  fear  to  name  any  sacred  or 
dreaded  animal.  The  black  cat  is  everywhere  an  ob¬ 
ject  of  aversion,  and  in  some  parts  of  England  to 
meet  a  person  who  squints  is  equal  to  meeting  one  pos¬ 
sessing  the  evil  eye.  Surely  I  do  not  need  to  remind 
this  audience  of  the  fear  which  many  people  have  of 
taking  any  important  action  on  Friday.  This  fear 
goes  so  far  in  some  instances  as  to  lead  people  to 
deprecate  over-praise  or  apologize  for  a  too  positive 
statement.  Your  courteous  Turk  will  not  take  a  com¬ 
pliment  without  “Mashallah;”  the  Italians  will  not 
receive  one  without  “Grazio  a  Dio;”  while  the  Irish¬ 
man  almost  always  says  “Glory  be  to  God,”  and  the 
English  peasant  “Lord  be  wi’  us;”  the  idea  in  every 
instance  being  to  avert  the  danger  of  fascination  by 
these  acknowledgments  of  a  higher  power. 

In  England  during  the  horrible  times  when  the 
Black  Death  raged  it  was  supposed  that  the  disease 
was  communicated  by  a  glance  from  the  distorted 
eyes  of  a  sick  man.  In  1603  Delrio,  a  Jesuit,  pub¬ 
lished  a  large  six-volume  folio  work  entitled  “A  Dis¬ 
quisition  on  Magic,”  in  which  he  takes  it  for  granted 
that  the  calamities  of  mortals  are  the  work  of  evil 
spirits.  He  says,  “Fascination  is  a  power  derived 


1 6 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


by  contact  with  the  devil,  who,  when  the  so-called 
fascinator  looks  at  another  with  evil  intent,  or  praises 
by  means  known  to  himself,  infects  with  evil  the  per¬ 
son  at  whom  he  looks.”  Those  familiar  with  the  his¬ 
tory  of  so-called  animal  magnetism,  mesmerism  or 
hypnotism,  will  see  a  close  connection  between  these 
beliefs  and  the  practice  of  this  peculiar  form  of  in¬ 
fluence.  Mesmerism,  in  fact,  as  ordinarily  practiced, 
was  more  or  less  dependent  upon  the  influence  of 
touch,  or  actual  contact,  whose  importance  has  al¬ 
ways  been  by  the  credulous  rated  high.  In  fact,  it 
will  be  remembered  that  many  of  the  miracles  of  the 
New  Testament  were  performed  by  the  aid  of  touch, 
and  in  the  Old  Testament  it  is  recorded  how  disap¬ 
pointed  Naaman  was  when  he  went  to  be  cured  of  his 
leprosy  in  that  the  prophet  did  not  touch  him.  The 
influence  of  the  royal  touch  for  the  cure  of  scrofula, 
known  for  centuries  as  the  King’s  Evil,  will  also  not 
be  forgotten.  In  fact,  our  word  to  “bless”  signifies 
to  touch  by  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  the  dis¬ 
eased  part,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  West  of  England, 
where  goitre  is  rather  common,  it  is  believed  that  the 
best  cure  is  that  the  swelling  should  be  touched  by 
the  hand  of  a  corpse  of  the  opposite  sex. 

The  more  we  deal  with  the  superstitions  now  un¬ 
der  consideration  the  more  evident  it  becomes  that  the 
principal  thought  among  the  simpler  peoples,  or  even 
among  some  of  the  religious  sects  of  to-day,  has  been 
the  propitiation  of  angry  deities,  or  of  destructive 
influences,  rather  than  the  worship  and  exaltation  of 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


i7 


beneficent  attributes.  As  Elworthy  says,  “We  find 
that  fear  and  dread  have  in  all  human  history  been 
more  potent  factors  in  men’s  conduct  than  hope  and 
gratitude  or  love.”  Take  for  example  the  propitiatory 
sacrifices  of  Abel  and  Cain,  or  the  sacrifice  which 
Abraham  proposed  to  make  of  his  own  son,  or  the 
very  words  which  have  crept  into  our  language  such 
as  atonement ,  etc.  With  this  personification  of  an 
evil  power  or  attribute  in  nature  came  also  belief  in 
transformation,  or  metamorphosis,  of  which  the 
Greek  and  Roman  mythology  is  full.  How  many  of 
the  Christian  symbols  of  to-day,  nearly  all  of  which 
are  of  pagan  origin,  convey  to  the  initiated  instances 
of  this  belief,  can  hardly  be  mentioned  in  this  place. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  their  number  is  very  great.  But 
I  find  too  many  temptations  to  wander  from  my  sub¬ 
ject,  which  is  essentially  the  evil  eye. 

In  mediaeval  symbolism,  as  in  ancient,  the  intent 
often  was  to  represent  either  on  some  amulet,  charm 
or  picture  a  figure  of  the  thing  against  which  it  was 
most  desired  that  a  protective  influence  should  be  ex¬ 
ercised,  hence  the  general  prevalence  of  the  eye  in 
some  pictorial  representation.  The  ancient  Egyp¬ 
tians,  as  well  as  the  Etruscans,  used  to  paint  a  huge 
eye  on  the  bows  of  their  vessels,  which  was  supposed 
to  be  a  charm  against  the  evil  eye.  Even  to-day  in 
the  Orient  I  have  seen  Greek  boats  with  eyes  painted 
on  either  side  of  their  prows.  The  eye  was  a  com¬ 
mon  adornment  of  Egyptian  pottery,  usually  in  com¬ 
bination  with  various  other  pictures,  but  as  a  symbol 


i8 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


it  seems  during  the  past  century  or  two  to  have  passed 
out  of  common  employ,  except  perhaps  in  Malta,  and 
among  the  Free-masons,  who  simply  are  perpetuating 
its  use.  Nevertheless,  wax  or  silver  eyes  are  seen 
hung  up  in  some  foreign  churches.  A  curious  feature 
of  these  superstitions  has  been  this,  that  any  feature 
of  indecency  or  obscenity  when  attaching  to  these 
symbols,  amulets,  etc.,  has  been  supposed  to  make 
them  much  more  potent.  This  probably  was  because 
anything  strange  or  unusual  was  more  likely  to  at¬ 
tract  the  eye,  and  therefore  divert  its  influence  from 
the  individual  to  the  inanimate  object,  hence  the  prev¬ 
alence  of  phallic  emblems  in  connection  with  these 
fancied  protections.  Many  objects  of  this  kind  can 
be  to-day  picked  up  in  the  jewelry  stores  of  Rome  and 
of  Naples. 

Another  of  the  most  efficacious  of  these  amulets 
takes  the  general  form  of  a  hideous  mask,  often  called 
the  Gorgoneion.  In  all  probability  this  was  largely 
for  the  reason  given  above — that  it  was  most  likely 
to  attract  attention.  Symbols  of  this  kind  are  in  very 
general  use  among  people  who  know  nothing  of  the 
reason  therefore.  Thus,  we  see  them  on  seals,  coins, 
etc.  The  gargoyles  of  mediaeval  architecture  are 
frequently  given  this  fantastic  appearance  and  for 
this  same  purpose. 

In  Roman  times  the  dolphin  was  a  favorite  device 
for  a  potent  charm  against  the  evil  eye,  and  was  pic¬ 
tured  on  many  a  soldier’s  shield.  Ulysses  adopted  it 
as  his  especial  choice,  both  on  his  signet  and  his  shield, 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


19 


perhaps  because  it  was  supposed  to  have  been  through 
the  agency  of  the  dolphin  that  Telemachus  was  saved 
from  drowning. 

To  us  in  the  medical  profession  it  is  of  no  little 
interest  that  in  Rome,  according  to  Varro,  there  stood 
three  temples  on  the  Esquiline  dedicated  to  the  god¬ 
dess  of  Fever  and  one  to  Mephitis.  Tacitus  relates 
that  a  temple  to  Mephitis  was  the  only  building  left 
standing  after  the  destruction  of  Cremona,  where 
there  was  also  an  altar  dedicated  to  the  Evil  Eye.  We 
know,  also,  that  in  the  very  centre  of  the  Forum  there 
stood  an  altar  to  Cloacina,  the  Goddess  of  Typhoid. 
What  complete  sway  this  goddess  has  held  from  an¬ 
cient  times  to  the  present  I  need  scarcely  tell  you. 
“When  Rome,  after  the  fall  of  the  empire,  relapsed 
into  its  most  insanitary  condition  this  old  worship 
reappeared  in  another  shape,  and  a  chapel  arose 
near  the  Vatican  to  the  Madonna  della  Febre,  the 
most  popular  in  Rome  in  times  of  sickness  or  epi¬ 
demic.”  This  simply  shows  a  transfer  of  ideas,  the 
attributes  of  Diana  being  conveyed  over  to  her  Chris¬ 
tian  successor,  the  virgin,  whose  cult  became  equally 
supreme. 

The  principal  symbol  of  this  cult  was  the  horned 
moon  or  crescent,  and,  in  consequence,  horns  in  one 
form  or  another  became  the  most  common  of  objects 
as  amulets  against  the  Evil  Eye.  So  comprehensive 
and  persistent  is  this  belief  in  Naples  that,  in  the  ab¬ 
sence  of  a  horn  in  some  shape,  the  mere  utterance  of 
the  name  corno  was  supposed  to  be  an  effectual  pro- 


20 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


tection.  Even  more  than  this,  the  name  Un  Como 
became  applicable  to  any  and  every  charm  or  amulet 
against  the  Evil  Eye.  We  may  find  many  references 
to  the  Horn  in  Scripture,  where  it  served  both  as 
an  emblem  of  dignity  and  as  an  amulet.  Most  curi¬ 
ous  it  is  that  the  phylactery  with  which  the  Pharisees 
adorned  their  garments,  and  which  called  forth  the 
most  scathing  denunciation  by  the  Master,  was  un¬ 
doubtedly  an  emblem  of  a  horn,  and  worn  as  an  amu¬ 
let  against  the  Evil  Eye.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  era  it  had  become  fashionable  to  wear 
these,  and  how  they  were  enlarged  and  made  not  only 
badges  of  sanctity  but  marks  of  worldly  honor,  we 
may  read  in  the  New  Testament. 

The  horn  has  been  an  important  feature  of  Chris¬ 
tian  symbolism,  as  of  pagan,  and  we  constantly  see 
the  ram’s  horn,  which  was  the  successor  of  the  bull’s 
horn,  made  such  from  economical  reasons,  all  over 
the  ruins  of  ancient  Rome.  The  married  women  of 
Lebanon  wear  silver  horns  upon  their  heads  to  dis¬ 
tinguish  them  from  the  single  women.  The  Jew¬ 
esses  of  Northern  Africa  wear  them  as  a  part  of  their 
regular  costume,  and  even  to-day  curious  spiral  orna¬ 
ments  are  worn  on  either  side  of  the  head  by  the 
Dutch  women.  In  Naples  horns  in  all  shapes  are  ex¬ 
ceedingly  common  upon  the  trappings  of  the  cab 
horses.  Indeed  the  heavy  trappings  and  harness  of 
these  overloaded  animals  are  usually  protected  with 
a  perfect  battery  of  potent  charms,  so  that  any  evil 
glance  must  be  fully  extinguished  before  it  can  light 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


21 


upon  the  animal  itself.  Thus,  we  may  frequently  see 
upon  the  backs  of  these  animals  two  little  brazen 
flags,  said  to  be  typical  of  the  flaming  sword  which 
turned  every  way,  and  which  are  supposed  to  be  an 
unfailing  attraction  to  the  eye.  The  high  pommel 
ends  usually  in  a  piece  of  the  inevitable  wolf’s  skin, 
and  many  colored  ribbons  or  worsteds  are  wound 
about  portions  of  the  harness  in  such  a  way  as  com¬ 
pletely  to  protect  all  that  it  encloses. 

But  the  most  numerous  of  all  these  emblems  is  a 
hand  in  various  positions  or  gestures.  Probably  every 
other  cab  horse  in  Naples  carries  the  hand  about  him 
in  some  form.  In  Rome  these  things  are  not  seen  so 
much  on  horses’  backs,  although  wolf  skins,  horns 
and  crescents  are  common  enough,  but  we  see  large 
numbers  of  silver  rings  for  human  fingers,  to  each  of 
which  a  little  pendant  horn  is  attached.  These  may 
be  seen  in  the  shop  windows  strung  upon  rods  and 
plainly  marked  Annelli  contra  la  Jettatura.  Those 
who  have  seen  Naples  thoroughly  have  noted  how 
cows’  horns,  often  painted  blue,  are  fixed  against  the 
walls,  especially  at  an  angle,  about  the  height  of  the 
first  floor.  But  one  of  the  most  remarkable  amulets 
which  I  have  ever  seen  hangs  outside  one  of  the  en¬ 
tries  to  the  Cathedral  in  Seville,  where  over  a  door 
is  hung  by  a  chain  the  tusk  of  an  elephant,  and  furth¬ 
er  out,  over  the  same  doorway,  swung  by  another 
chain,  an  enormous  crocodile,  sent  as  a  present  or 
charm  of  special  power  to  Alfonso,  in  1260,  by  the 
Sultan  of  Egypt.  These  two  strange  charms  hang 


12 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


over  the  doorway  of  a  Christian  church  of  to-day,  in¬ 
dicating  the  acceptance  by  a  Christian  people  of  a 
Moslem  emblem  and  amulet. 

Again,  in  Rome  it  is  very  common  to  see  a  small 
cow’s  horn  on  the  framework  of  the  Roman  wine 
carts  or  dangling  beneath  the  axle.  Much  more  com¬ 
mon  and  better  known  among  the  Anglo-Saxon  peo¬ 
ples  is  the  horse-shoe  emblem,  which  with  us  has  lost 
all  of  its  original  signification,  as  an  emblem  of  fe¬ 
cundity,  and  has  become  a  charm  against  evil.  It  is 
hung  up  over  doorways,  is  nailed  up  in  houses,  it 
guards  stable  doors  and  protects  fields  against  malign 
influences.  Even  in  the  Paris  Exhibition  of  1889, 
where  there  was  a  representation  of  a  street  from  old 
Cairo,  there  hung  over  several  of  the  doors  a  croco¬ 
dile  with  a  horse-shoe  on  his  snout. 

So  far  I  have  said  very  little  about  the  positions 
of  the  hand  and  certain  gestures  by  which  it  is  intend¬ 
ed  to  ward  off  the  evil  eye.  The  Mohammedans,  like 
the  Neapolitans,  are  profound  believers  in  the  ef¬ 
ficacy  of  manual  signs;  thus  outside  of  many  a  door 
in  Tangier  I  have  seen  the  imprint  of  a  hand  made 
by  placing  the  outstretched  hand  upon  some  sticky 
black  or  colored  material,  which  was  then  transferred 
as  by  a  type  or  die  to  the  doorway  of  the  dwelling, 
where  in  the  likeness  of  the  outstretched  manus  it 
serves  to  guard  the  dwellers  within.  This  is  to  me 
one  of  the  most  curious  things  to  be  observed  in 
Mohammedan  countries.  A  relic  of  the  same  belief 
I  have  seen  also  over  the  great  gate  of  the  Alhambra, 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


23 


in  the  Tower  of  Justice,  where,  in  spite  of  the  very 
strict  Moslem  custom  and  belief  against  representa¬ 
tion  of  any  living  object,  over  the  keystone  of  the 
outer  Moorish  arch  is  carved  an  outstretched  upright 
hand,  a  powerful  protection  against  evil.  It  is  this 
position  of  the  hand,  by  the  way,  which  has  been  ob¬ 
served  in  all  countries  in  the  administration  of  the 
judicial  oath.  Moreover,  the  hand  in  this  position  is 
the  modern  heraldic  sign  of  baronetcy. 

The  hand  in  the  customary  position  of  benediction 
is  sometimes  open  and  extended,  while  at  other  times 
only  the  first  and  second  fingers  are  straightened. 
The  power  which  the  extended  hand  may  exert  is 
well  illustrated  in  the  biblical  account  (Exodus  17: 
11 )  “And  it  came  to  pass  when  Moses  held  up  his 
hand  that  Israel  prevailed,  and  when  he  let  down  his 
hand  Amalek  prevailed.”  And  so  it  happened  that 
when  Moses  wearied  of  the  constrained  position  his 
hand  was  supported  by  Aaron  and  by  Hur.  This  is 
only  one  of  numerous  illustrations  in  the  holy  writ¬ 
ings  showing  the  talismanic  influence  of  the  human 
hand.  There  are  comparatively  few  people  who 
realize,  to-day,  that  the  conventional  attitude  of 
prayer  as  of  benediction,  with  hands  held  up,  is  the 
old  charm  as  against  the  evil  eye.  In  one  of  the  great 
marble  columns  in  the  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia  in  Con¬ 
stantinople  there  is  a  remarkable  natural  freak  by 
which  there  seems  to  appear  upon  the  dark  marble 
the  white  figure  of  an  outspread  hand.  This  is  held 
in  the  highest  reverence  by  the  superstitious  populace, 


24 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


who  all  approach  it  to  pray  for  protection  from  the 
evil  eye.  The  open  hand  has  also  been  stamped  upon 
many  a  coin  both  in  ancient  and  modern  times,  and 
the  general  prevalence  of  the  hand  as  a  form  of  door¬ 
knocker  can  be  seen  alike  in  the  ruins  of  Pompeii 
and  the  modern  dwelling. 

The  hand  clenched  in  various  forms  has  been  used 
in  more  ways  than  as  a  mere  signal  or  sign  of  defi¬ 
ance.  In  Italy  the  mano-fica  implies  contempt  or  in¬ 
sult  rather  than  defiance.  Among  all  the  Latin  races 
this  peculiar  gesture  of  the  thumb  between  the  first 
and  second  fingers  has  a  significant  name  and  a  sig¬ 
nificant  meaning.  It  is  connected  everywhere  with 
the  fig,  and  expresses  in  the  most  discourteous  way 
that  which  is  implied  in  our  English  phrase  “don’t 
care  a  fig.”  It  is  in  common  use  as  an  amulet  to  be 
worn  from  the  neck  or  about  the  body,  and  conveys 
the  same  meaning  as  that  which  the  Neapolitans  fre¬ 
quently  express  when  they  say  “May  the  evil  eye  do 
you  no  harm.”  Another  position  of  the  hand,  name¬ 
ly,  that  with  the  index  and  little  fingers  extended, 
while  the  middle  and  ring  fingers  are  flexed  and 
clasped  by  the  thumb,  gives  also  the  rude  imitation  of 
the  head  of  a  horned  animal,  and  is  frequently  spok¬ 
en  of  as  the  mano  cornuta.  A  Neapolitan’s  right  hand 
is  frequently,  in  some  instances  almost  constantly,  kept 
in  that  position  pointing  downwards,  just  as  hand 
charms  are  made  to  hang  downwards,  save  when  it  is 
desired  to  use  the  sign  against  some  particular  indi¬ 
vidual,  when  the  hand  is  pointed  toward  him,  even 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


25 


at  his  very  eyes  if  he  appear  much  to  be  dreaded. 
When,  however,  the  hand  in  this  position  is  pointed 
toward  one’s  chin  it  conveys  a  most  insulting  mean¬ 
ing  and  hints  at  conjugal  infidelity.  As  the  Neapol¬ 
itan  cab-men  pass  each  other  the  common  sign  is  to 
wave  the  hand  in  gesture  and  in  this  position.  This 
is  true  also  of  many  other  places. 

The  sign  of  the  cross  is  very  often  made  with  the 
hand,  usually  with  the  first  two  fingers  extended,  and 
seems  to  mean  a  benediction  of  double  potency,  be¬ 
cause  both  the  hand  and  the  cross  itself  are  utilized 
in  the  gesture.  I  have  elsewhere  discussed  the  sig¬ 
nification  of  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  do  not  care 
to  take  it  up  again  just  now.  It  is  certainly  of  phallic 
origin  and  as  certainly  antedates  the  Christian  era  by 
many  hundred  years.  It  is,  in  other  words,  a  pa¬ 
gan  symbol  to  which  a  newer  significance  has  been 
given.  Talismanic  power  has  usually  been  ascribed 
to  it,  and  in  some  form,  either  as  the  Greek  Tau  or 
the  Crux  Ansata,  has  been  most  frequently  employed. 
In  one  or  the  other  of  these  forms  it  was  the  mark 
set  upon  the  houses  of  the  Israelites  to  preserve  them 
from  the  destroying  angel.  In  the  roll  of  the  Roman 
soldiery,  after  a  battle,  it  was  placed  after  the  names 
of  those  still  alive;  and  we  read  in  Ezekiel  9:4  of 
the  mark  which  was  to  be  set  upon  “the  foreheads  of 
the  men  that  cry,”  which  was  certainly  the  Greek 
Tau,  because  the  Vulgate  plainly  states  this.  Upon 
some  of  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  coins  there  was  placed 
a  cross  on  each  side,  usually  the  handled  cross,  and 


2  6 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


upon  various  seals  it  has  been  in  use  until  a  compara¬ 
tively  recent  period.  It  may  be  seen,  also,  in  many 
illustrations  from  the  catacombs,  for  instance,  dating 
back  to  a  time  before  the  cross  was  a  generally  re¬ 
ceived  Christian  emblem,  showing  both  the  use  of 
the  cross  and  the  hand  in  the  positions  to  which  I 
have  already  alluded.  The  sign  of  the  cross  is  made 
by  many  a  schoolboy  in  his  play  before  he  shoots  his 
marble,  and  I  have  often  seen  it  made  upon  the  wood¬ 
en  ball  before  a  man  has  bowled  with  it.  Many  a 
peasant  scratches  it  upon  his  field  after  sowing,  and 
many  a  housewife  has  scratched  it  upon  her  dough. 

The  hand  with  the  first  two  fingers  and  thumb  ex¬ 
tended  in  the  ordinary  position  of  sacerdotal  benedic¬ 
tion  was  certainly  a  charm  against  evil  long  before 
the  Christian  era.  This  is  not  used  so  much  by  the 
common  people,  but  has  been  appropriated  rather  by 
the  priests.  By  a  sort  of  general  consent  this  has  been 
especially  the  attitude  permitted  to  the  Second  Per¬ 
son  of  the  Trinity,  although  there  are  numerous  in¬ 
stances  in  mediaeval  painting  where  the  hand  of  the 
First  Person  has  been  shown  in  this  position.  In¬ 
deed,  the  expression  “dextera  Dei,”  or  “right  hand 
of  God,”  is  conventionalized. 

In  many  amulets,  images  and  pictures,  other  charms 
are  combined  with  that  supposed  to  be  exercised  by 
the  human  hand.  An  exceedingly  common  one  was 
the  Egyptian  scarab.  The  Egyptians  believed  that 
there  were  no  females  of  this  kind  of  insect,  hence 
it  was  considered  a  symbol  of  virility  and  manly  force, 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


27 


and  in  connection  with  the  mano  pantea  just  alluded 
to  gave  the  amulet  power  to  guard  both  the  living 
and  dead.  In  fact  it  was  almost  as  common  upon 
these  emblems  as  the  human  eye  itself. 

Again,  the  serpent  was  a  frequent  emblem  in  this 
same  connection.  As  I  have  elsewhere  written  upon 
the  subject  of  serpent-worship  I  need  scarcely  more 
than  allude  to  it  here,  save  to  say  that  to  the  serpent 
were  ascribed  numerous  virtues  and  powers,  and  that 
its  use  upon  any  charm  was  supposed  to  reinforce  the 
virtues  already  possessed  by  it. 

Among  the  most  curious  of  all  the  Italian  charms 
against  the  Evil  Eye,  and  yet  one  which  has  been 
singularly  neglected  by  most  writers,  is  the  sprig  of 
rue  or,  as  the  Neapolitans  call  it,  the  cimaruta.  In 
its  simplest  form  it  was  undoubtedly  of  Etruscan  or 
Phoenician  origin.  Later,  however,  it  became  curi¬ 
ously  involved  with  other  symbols  and  quite  compli¬ 
cated.  It  is  worn  especially  upon  the  breasts  of  Nea¬ 
politan  babies,  and  is  considered  their  especial  pro¬ 
tection  against  the  much-dreaded  jettatura.  In  an¬ 
cient  times  no  plant  had  so  many  virtues  ascribed  to 
it  as  had  the  rue.  Pliny,  indeed,  cites  it  as  being  a 
remedy  for  84  different  diseases.  It  used  to  be  hung 
about  the  neck  in  primeval  times  to  serve  as  an  amu¬ 
let  against  fascination.  In  most  of  these  amulet  forms 
it  consists  of  three  branches,  which  were  supposed  to 
be  typical  of  Diana  Triformis,  who  used  often  to  be 
represented  in  three  positions  and  as  if  having  three 
pairs  of  arms. 


28 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


Diana,  by  the  way,  was  the  especial  protectress  of 
women  in  child-birth.  Silver  was  her  own  metal  and 
the  moon  her  special  emblem.  Therefore,  the  expres¬ 
sion,  “the  silver  moon”  is  not  so  meaningless  as  it 
would  appear.  This  will  in  some  measure  account  for 
the  fact  that  corals,  to  which  large  virtues  were  as¬ 
cribed,  used  always  to  be  mounted  in  silver,  and  that 
the  crescent,  or  new  moon,  is  also  almost  invariably 
made  of  this  same  metal.  Of  the  many  charms  which 
used  to  be  combined  in  the  clmaruta  there  is  scarcely 
one  which  may  not  be  more  or  less  considered  as  con¬ 
nected  with  Diana,  the  Goddess  of  Infants. 

Frequently,  also,  we  may  see  representations  of  the 
sea-horse  quite  like  the  living  hippocampi  of  to-day, 
which  are  worn  alike  by  cab  horses  and  by  women  in 
Naples.  They  are  known  locally  as  the  Cavalli  ma- 
rini . 

Protection  supposed  to  be  most  efficient  was  and  is 
frequently  afforded  also  by  another  method,  namely, 
printed  or  written  invocations,  prayers,  formulae, 
etc.,  worn  somewhere  about  the  body.  Sometimes 
these  were  worn  concealed  from  view  and  at  others 
they  were  openly  displayed.  Even  to-day  on  Turk¬ 
ish  horses  and  Arab  camels  are  hung  little  bags  con¬ 
taining  passages  from  the  Koran,  while  the  Neapoli¬ 
tan  horses  frequently  carry  in  little  canvas  bags  pray¬ 
ers  to  the  Madonna  or  verses  from  scripture, — these 
as  a  sort  of  last  resort  in  case  the  other  charms  fail. 
The  good  Catholic  of  to-day,  especially  if  of  Irish 
descent,  wears  his  little  scapulary  suspended  around 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


29 


the  neck,  which  is  supposed  to  be  a  potent  protection. 
Frommannd’s  large  work  on  Magic  offers  us  a  perfect 
mine  of  written  spells  against  fascination,  which  have 
often  to  be  prepared  with  certain  mystic  observances. 
The  various  written  charms,  as  against  the  bite  of 
the  mad  dog,  are  only  other  illustrations  of  the  same 
superstition.  Indeed,  many  superstitious  people  be¬ 
lieve  that  the  mere  utterance  of  particular  numbers 
exercises  a  charm.  Daily  expression  of  this  belief  we 
see  in  the  credulity  about  the  luck  of  odd  numbers, 
and  the  old  belief  that  the  third  time  will  be  lucky. 
Military  salutes  are  always  in  odd  numbers.  More 
value  attaches  in  public  estimation  to  the  number  sev¬ 
en  than  to  any  other,  as  we  see  in  the  miraculous  pow¬ 
ers  ascribed  to  the  seventh  son  of  a  seventh  son. 

An  appeal  to  luck  to-day  is  the  equivalent  of  the 
old  prayer  to  the  Goddess  Fortuna,  and  is  voiced  in 
the  common  idea  about  the  lucky  coin  and  the  various 
little  observances  for  luck  which  are  so  popular. 
These  observances  are  everywhere  inclusive  of  the 
popular  importance  attached  to  expectoration,  which 
is  one  of  the  most  curious  features  of  these  many 
widespread  beliefs.  The  habit  of  spitting  on  a  coin, 
for  instance,  is  very  common,  just  as  the  schoolboy 
spits  on  his  agate  when  playing  marbles  or  on  his 
baseball,  or  the  bowler  upon  his  wooden  ball  before 
rolling  it.  In  fact,  this  whole  matter  of  spitting  has 
been  in  all  ages  an  expression  of  a  deep-rooted  popu¬ 
lar  belief.  Among  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans 
the  most  common  remedy  against  an  envious  look  was 


30 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


spitting,  hence  it  was  called  “despuere  malum”  Old 
women  would  avert  the  evil  eye  from  their  children 
by  spitting  three  times  (observe  the  odd  number)  in¬ 
to  their  bosoms. 

The  virtues  and  properties  attributed  to  saliva 
among  various  peoples  have  been  numerous  and  ex¬ 
alted.  To  lick  a  wart  on  rising  in  the  morning  used 
to  be  one  of  its  well-recognized  cures,  and  is  to-day 
a  popular  remedy  for  any  slight  wound.  Especially 
was  the  saliva  of  a  fasting  person  peculiarly  effica¬ 
cious.  Pliny  states  that  when  a  person  looks  upon  an 
infant  asleep  the  nurse  should  spit  three  times  upon 
the  ground.  But  the  most  marvellous  virtues  were 
attributed  to  saliva  in  the  direction  of  restoration  of 
sight.  The  most  conspicuous  illustration  of  this  is 
the  instance  mentioned  in  the  New  Testament  when 
Christ  healed  the  blind  man,  for  it  is  related  that: 

“He  spat  on  the  ground  and  made  clay  of  the  spit¬ 
tle,  and  did  anoint  the  eyes  of  the  blind  man  with  the 
clay.” 

The  practice  of  concealing  the  eyes  is  prevalent 
throughout  the  Orient,  and  among  the  Moham¬ 
medans,  cannot  be  referred  entirely  to  male  jealousy, 
for  the  women  themselves  confess  to  the  greatest  re¬ 
luctance  to  show  their  faces  to  the  stranger,  fearing 
the  influence  of  the  evil  eye. 

Again,  inasmuch  as  from  time  immemorial  diseases 
of  all  kinds  have  been  considered  the  direct  result  of 
fascination,  it  was  most  natural  that  charms  of  varied 
form  should  be  introduced  as  a  protection.  Many 


THE  EVIL  EYE 


3i 


persons  even  of  considerable  education  lend  them¬ 
selves  to  this  superstition.  The  carrying  in  one’s 
pocket  of  a  potato,  a  lump  of  camphor  or  an  amulet 
is,  among  other  alleged  charms,  but  an  everyday  il¬ 
lustration  of  this  belief. 

It  would  be  possible  to  go  on  with  an  almost  end¬ 
less  enumeration  of  the  forms  of  this  still  generally 
prevalent  belief  in  the  power  of  the  evil  eye,  and  of 
the  charms  by  which  it  may  be  averted.  As  has  been 
set  forth,  it  is  but  a  particulate  expression  of  a  general 
and  widespread  belief  in  the  existence  of  an  evil  be¬ 
ing,  for  some  vague  and  almost  unsubstantial,  for  oth¬ 
ers  assuming  almost  the  proportions  of  the  personal 
devil  of  mediaeval  theology,  or  even  of  the  Tyrolean 
Passion  Plays.  A  discussion  in  a  general  way  of  this 
topic  I  have  held  to  be  not  entirely  foreign  to  the 
purpose  of  this  society,  it  being  one  of  the  most  in¬ 
teresting  subjects  of  folklore  study,  and  it  may  perhaps 
be  considered  just  at  the  present  to  have  a  more  par¬ 
ticular  interest  for  us  in  that  we  have  so  recently  been 
favored  with  a  most  delightful  and  scholarly  essay 
on  the  “Salem  Witchcraft”  by  Prof.  John  Fiske,  in 
which  he  graphically  set  forth  the  mechanism  and  the 
consequences  of  an  aggravated  expression  of  this  be¬ 
lief,  which  constitutes  the  most  serious  blot  which  can 
be  found  upon  the  history  of  the  Protestant  white 
races  in  this  country. 


II 


THANATOLOGY 

A  QUESTIONNAIRE  AND  A  PLEA  FOR  A  NEGLECTED 

STUDY 

IS  it  possible  to  watch  the  “vital  spark  of  heav¬ 
enly  flame,”  as  it  quits  “this  mortal  frame”  and 
not  be  overcome  by  the  mystery  of  death  as  the 
termination  of  that  even  greater  mystery,  life? 
Is  there  inspiration  in  the  pagan  emperor’s  address 
to  his  soul — those  Latin  verses  which  Pope  has  so 
beautifully  translated? 

To  the  speculative  philosopher  death  may  have  a 
different  significance,  and  one  not  altogether  includ¬ 
ed  in  that  given  to  it  by  the  physiologist.  To  the 
former  it  is  a  subject  for  transcendental  speculation; 
to  the  latter  it  is  the  terminal  stage  of  that  adjust¬ 
ment  of  internal  and  external  relations  which,  for 
Spencer,  constitutes  life.  For  us  its  primary  and  im¬ 
mediate  significance  is  purely  mundane,  yet  it  deserves 
such  serious  study  from  a  practical  viewpoint  as  it 
seldom  receives. 

What  is  death?  When  does  it  actually  occur? 
How  can  it  occur  when  the  majority  of  cells  in  the 
previously  living  organism  live  on  for  hours  or  for 


^Appeared  first  in  the  Journal  of  the  American  Medical  As¬ 
sociation,  April  27,  1912. 

32 


THANATOLOGY 


33 


days  or,  under  certain  favoring  circumstances,  retain 
potentialities  of  life  for  indefinite  periods?  These 
and  numberless  related  questions  constitute  a  line  of 
inquiry  that  may  well  call  for  a  separate  department 
of  science.  Pondering  in  this  wise,  I  long  ago  coined 
an  expression  which  years  later  I  found  had  been  in¬ 
corporated  in  the  scientific  dictionaries,  though  never 
before  heard  by  me  or  encountered  in  my  reading. 
“Thanatology”  is  this  word,  and  it  may  be  defined 
as  the  study  of  the  nature  and  causes  of  death.  In¬ 
separable  from  it,  however,  are  certain  considerations 
regarding  the  nature  and  causes  of  life.  Yet  I  would 
not  introduce  a  compound  term  such  as  “biothanatol- 
ogy,”  wishing  so  far  as  possible  to  limit  the  study  and 
the  meaning. 

Let  us  ask  ourselves  a  few  more  questions.  Does 
life  inhere  in  any  particular  cell?  In  the  leukocytes? 
In  the  neurons?  Both  are  capable  of  stimulated  ac¬ 
tivity  long  after  the  death  of  their  host.  In  fact,  by 
suitable  electric  stimulation,  nearly  all  the  phenom¬ 
ena  of  life  may  be  reproduced  after  death,  save  con¬ 
sciousness  and  mentality  alone.  Do  these  then  con¬ 
stitute  life,  and  their  suppression  or  abolition  death? 
If  so  what  about  the  condition  of  trance,  or  of  ab¬ 
solute  imbecility,  congenital  or  induced?  Or,  again, 
how  can  a  decapitated  frog  go  on  living  for  hours? 
Is  it  perhaps  because  the  heart  is  the  vital  organ  that 
the  hearts  of  some  animals  will  continue  to  palpitate 
for  hours  after  their  removal  from  the  bodies?  Yet 
the  animals  which  have  lost  them  certainly  promptly 


34 


THANATOLOGY 


die.  Suddenly  stop  a  man’s  heart-action  by  electrocu¬ 
tion,  or  the  guillotine,  or  a  bullet,  and  he  dies,  we 
say,  instantly.  Let  it  stop  equally  suddenly  under 
chloroform  and  there  is  a  period  of  several  minutes 
during  which  it  may  be  set  going.  Let  a  man  appar¬ 
ently  drown  and  this  viable  period  becomes  even 
longer — say  a  goodly  fraction  of  an  hour.  During 
the  interval  is  he  alive  or  dead,  or  is  there  an  inter¬ 
mediate  period  of  absolutely  suspended  animation? 
And  if  so,  in  what  does  it  consist? 

Is  there  a  vital  principle?  If  so  what  is  it?  Is 
such  a  thing  conceivable?  Can  such  a  concept  pre¬ 
vail  among  physicists?  Can  we  consent  even  to  en¬ 
tertain  in  this  direction  the  notion  of  what  is  so 
vaguely  called  “the  soul?”  Of  course,  those  who  talk 
most  lucidly  about  the  soul  know  least  about  it,  and 
no  man  can  define  it  in  comprehensible  terms;  but 
can  consideration  of  the  soul  (whatever  it  may  be) 
be  omitted  from  our  thanatology?  Probably  not, 
at  least  by  many  thinkers  who  cannot  segregate  their 
physics  from  their  theology.  Sad  it  is  that  theology, 
which  might  be  so  consolatory  had  it  any  fixed  foun¬ 
dation,  should  be  utterly  impotent  when  so  much  is 
wanted  of  it.  Theology,  however,  has  little  if  aught 
to  do  with  thanatology. 

Is  protoplasm  alive?  If  so,  then  why  may  we  not 
believe,  with  Binet,  in  the  psychic  life  of  micro-or¬ 
ganisms?  He  seems  to  have  advanced  good  reason 
for  assuming  that  we  may  do  so,  albeit  such  manifes¬ 
tations  in  either  direction  may  be  scarcely  more  than 


THANATOLOGY 


35 


expressions  of  chemiotaxis.  But  if  protoplasm  be 
alive  in  any  proper  sense,  as  it  would  appear  (else 
where  draw  the  line?),  just  when  does  it  so  appear 
and  whence  comes  its  life?  If  it  be  alive,  then  life 
inheres  in  the  nitrogen  compounds  composing  it,  or 
else  is  an  adjunct  of  matter,  imponderable,  elusive, 
something  ////-conceivable  if  undeniable.  The  vital- 
ists  are  of  late  perhaps  attaining  an  ascendency  which 
for  decades  they  had  lost,  since  they  maintain  that 
life  is  not  to  be  explained  by  chemical  activities  alone. 
And  yet  it  is  possible  to  set  going  in  the  eggs  of  cer¬ 
tain  sea  animals  the  phenomena  of  life,  or  to  liberate 
them  by  certain  weak  solutions  of  alkaline  cyanids, 
without  the  pressure  or  assistance  of  fructifying  sper¬ 
matozoa.  In  such  cases  life  or  death  are  determined 
by  ionization  and  certain  chemicals,  or  by  their  ab¬ 
sence.  Where  then,  again,  is  the  vital  principle?  Or 
is  it  inherent  in  the  ion,  and  was  Bion  correct  when 
he  said  “electricity  is  life?” 

The  life  of  a  cell  is  then  necessarily  quite  distinct 
from  the  life  of  its  host,  nor  can  the  latter  be  com¬ 
posed  simply  of  the  numerical  total  lives  of  its  com¬ 
ponents.  Some  lower  animals  bear  semidivision,  in 
which  case  each  half  soon  becomes  a  complete  unit  by 
itself.  Others  seem  to  bear  the  loss  of  almost  any 
individual  part  without  loss  of  life,  and  it  is  hard 
to  say  just  which  is  the  vital  part.  The  central  pump¬ 
ing  organ  is  perhaps  the  sine  qua  non ,  when  it  exists. 
But  when  non-existent,  then  what? 

Again,  while  a  living  organism  may  be  artificially 


36 


THANATOLOGY 


divided  into  viable  portions,  no  method  seems  known 
by  which  a  series  of  separate  cells  may  be,  as  it  were, 
assembled  or  combined  into  one,  of  which  a  new  unit 
may  result  from  assemblage  or  combination.  The 
more  highly  specialized  or  complex  the  cell,  the  more 
easily  does  it  part  with  life,  and  the  more  difficult 
becomes  its  preservation  and  its  reproduction.  We 
may  assume  that  after  the  death  of  a  man  his  most 
specialized  cells  are  the  first  to  die,  or  more,  that 
their  death  has  perhaps  preceded  his  own.  In  the 
ante-mortem  collapse  seen  in  many  diseases  and 
poisonings,  has  not  this  very  thing  occurred,  i.  e.,  that 
the  patient  has  outlived  his  most  important  cells? 
Certainly  when  a  patient  dies  of  progressive  gangrene 
he  has  outlived,  perhaps,  a  large  proportion  of  his 
millions  of  competent  cells.  Viewed  properly,  what 
a  strange  spectacle  is  here  presented !  Perhaps  twenty 
per  cent,  of  his  cells  actually  dead,  the  rest  bathed 
in  more  or  less  poisonous  media,  still  their  host  en¬ 
dures  yet  a  little  while.  “Behold,  I  show  you  a  great 
mystery.”  About  which  of  the  poisoned  cells  does 
the  flame  of  life  still  flicker? 

The  life-giving  germ-  and  sperm-cells  may  exist 
and  persist  for  some  time  after  the  body  dies,  as 
numerous  experiences  and  experiments  have  shown. 
Ova  and  spermatozoa  do  not  die  the  instant  the  host 
dies.  And  herein  appears  another  great  mystery,  that 
cells  from  the  undoubtedly  dead  body  may  possess  and 
unfold  the  potentialities  of  life  when  properly  en¬ 
vironed.  Among  the  lower  forms  of  life  cells  but 


THANATOLOGY 


37 


slightly  differentiated  go  on  living  and  even  creating 
new  organisms,  though  the  larger  organisms  be  dead. 
Moreover,  in  what  way  shall  we  regard  the  division 
of  one  ameboid  cell  into  two,  equally  alive  and  com¬ 
plete?  Here  two  living  organisms  are  made  out  of 
one,  without  death  intervening,  and  by  permutation 
alone  may  one  calculate,  through  how  few  genera¬ 
tions  cells  need  pass  in  order  to  be  numbered  by  mil¬ 
lions,  without  a  death  necessary  to  the  process. 

Thus  far  we  have  had  in  mind  life  and  death  in 
the  animal  kingdom  alone.  But  most  of  what  has 
been  said,  and  much  that  has  not,  is  equally  true  in 
the  vegetable  kingdom.  Even  in  the  mineral  king¬ 
dom — as  some  think — the  invariable  and  inevitable 
tendency  to  assume  definite  crystalline  form  repre¬ 
sents  the  lowest  type  of  life.  Indeed  it  might  fall  in 
with  Spencer’s  definition  as  evincing  a  tendency  to 
adjust  internal  to  external  relations,  though  exhibited 
only  after  such  ruthless  disturbance  as  liquefaction 
by  heat  or  solution.  But  then,  is  not  every  disturb¬ 
ance  of  relations  “ruthless,”  because  it  follows  in¬ 
exorable  habits  of  Nature?  Even  a  crystal  will  re¬ 
form  as  frequently  as  appear  certain  other  phenom¬ 
ena  of  life,  if  made  to  do  so.  Were  atoms  alive  they 
would  suffer  with  every  fresh  chemical  change,  and 
who  knows  but  that  they  do? 

But  in  the  vegetable  world  we  certainly  have  all 
the  features  of  life  and  death  in  complete  form:  fruc¬ 
tification  of  certain  cells  by  certain  others,  develop¬ 
ment  in  unicellular  form  or  in  most  profuse  and  com- 


38 


THANATOLOGY 


plex  form,  a  selection  of  necessary  constituents  of 
growth  from  apparently  unpromising  soil,  and  the 
production  of  startling  results.  Does  not  the  sensi¬ 
tive  plant  evince  a  contact  sensibility  almost  equal  to 
that  of  the  conjunctiva?  And  who  shall  say  that  it 
does  not  suffer  when  rudely  handled?  Does  not  the 
production  of  the  complex  essential  oils  and  volatile 
ethers  which  give  to  certain  flowers  their  wonderful 
fragrance,  indicating  what  strange  combinations  of 
crude  materials  have  been  effected  within  their  cells, 
show  as  wonderful  a  laboratory  as  any  concealed  with¬ 
in  the  animal  organisms?  Yet  death  comes  to  these 
plants  with  equal  certainty,  and  presents  equally  per¬ 
plexing  mysteries.  When  dies  the  flower?  When 
plucked  and  separated  from  its  natural  supply  or  when 
it  begins  to  fade  (a  period  made  more  or  less  varia¬ 
ble  by  the  care  given  it),  or  when  it  ceases  to  emit  its 
odor?  And  is  then  death  a  matter  of  hours?  When 
the  floral  stem  was  snapped  what  else  snapped  with 
it?  At  what  instant  did  the  floral  murder  occur? 

Every  seed  and  every  seedling  possesses  marvel¬ 
ous  potentiality  of  life,  and  so  long  as  it  does  we  say 
it  is  not  dead;  nor  yet  is  it  alive.  It  resists  consid¬ 
erable  degrees  of  heat,  will  bear  the  lowest  tempera¬ 
ture,  will  remain  latent  for  long  periods,  and  still  its 
cells  will  instantly  respond  to  favoring  stimuli.  Its 
actual  life  is  apparently  aroused  by  purely  thermic 
and  chemical  (electrionic?)  activities  environing  it. 
In  what  do  its  life  and  its  death  consist? 

But  life  and  death  are  influenced — we  say  “strange- 


THANATOLOGY 


39 


ly”  only  because  it  all  seems  strange  to  us — by  un¬ 
common  or  purely  artificial  conditions.  Radium  ema¬ 
nations  have  always  an  injurious  effect  on  embryonic 
development.  Under  their  influence,  for  example, 
the  eggs  of  amphibia  become  greatly  disturbed.  Cells 
that  should  specialize  into  nerve,  ganglion  and  muscle 
fail  to  develop,  and  consequently  there  may  be  pro¬ 
duced  minute  amphibian  monsters,  destitute  of  nerves 
and  muscles,  but  otherwise  nearly  normal.  Hertwig 
has  submitted  the  sperm-cells  of  sea  urchins  to  these 
rays,  without  killing  them,  but  invariably  with  conse¬ 
quent  abnormal  development. 

The  effect  of  cathode  or  v-rays  is  even  more  widely 
recognized  and  has  been  more  generally  demon¬ 
strated.  They  seem  to  possess  properties  injurious 
to  most  cell-life  and  even  fatal  to  some. 

Still  more  puzzling,  and  weird  in  a  way,  are  the 
results  of  experiments,  now  widely  practiced,  which 
have  to  do  with  juggling,  as  it  were,  with  ova,  larvae 
and  embryos,  by  all  imaginable  combinations  of  sub¬ 
division  and  reattachment  of  parts,  so  that  there  have 
resulted  all  kinds  of  monstrosities  and  abnormalities. 
To  such  an  extent  has  this  laboratory  play  been  car¬ 
ried  that  almost  any  desired  product  can  be  furnished 
— living  creatures  with  two  heads,  two  tails,  or  what¬ 
ever  combination  may  be  determined. 

Among  the  most  remarkable  of  these  efforts  have 
been  those  of  Vianney,  of  Lyons,  who  has  shown  that 
it  is  possible  to  remove  the  head  end  of  several  dif¬ 
ferent  insect  larvae  without  preventing  their  develop- 


40 


THANAT0L0GY 


ment  and  metamorphosis  into  the  butterfly  stage.  In 
Bombyx  larvae,  for  example,  the  butterflies  arrived 
at  the  mature  stage,  with  streaked  wings  and  beautiful 
coloration,  but  almost  headless.  These  anencephal- 
ous  insects  lived  for  some  time. 

Few  animals  survive  exposures  of  any  length  to  a 
temperature  much  over  150  F.,  and  most  of  them  are 
killed  by  considerably  less  heat.  Freezing  has  always 
been  considered  equally  fatal.  Gangrene  is  the  com¬ 
mon  result  of  freezing  a  part  of  the  human  body,  and 
that  means  local  death.  Extraordinary  pains  must  be 
taken  with  a  frozen  ear  or  finger  if  its  vitality  is  to  be 
restored.  And  so  even  with  the  hibernating,  or  the 
cold-blooded  animals,  a  really  low  temperature  has 
been  generally  regarded  as  fatal. 

But  the  recent  experiments  of  Pictet,  who  did  so 
much  in  the  production  of  exceedingly  low  tempera¬ 
tures,  freezing  of  gases,  etc.,  have  shown  some  start¬ 
ling  results  in  the  failure  to  kill  goldfish  and  other 
of  the  lower  animals  by  refrigeration.  For  instance, 
goldfish  were  placed  in  a  tank  whose  water  was  grad¬ 
ually  frozen  while  the  fish  were  still  moving  therein. 
The  result  was  a  cake  of  ice  with  imprisoned  sup¬ 
posedly  dead  fish.  This  ice  was  then  reduced  to  a 
still  lower  temperature,  at  which  it  was  maintained 
for  over  two  months.  It  was  then  very  slowly  thawed 
out,  whereupon  the  fish  came  to  life  and  moved  in 
apparently  their  normal  and  natural  ways  as  if  noth¬ 
ing  had  happened. 

This  confirms  Pictet’s  early  experiments  and  con- 


THANATOLOGY 


4i 


victions,  that  if  the  chemical  reactions  of  living  or¬ 
ganisms  can  be  suspended  without  causing  organic 
lesions  the  phenomena  of  life  will  temporarily  disap¬ 
pear,  to  return  when  conditions  are  again  as  usual. 
It  is  worth  relating  that  his  fish  frozen  in  this  way 
could  be  broken  in  small  pieces  just  as  if  they  were 
part  of  the  ice  itself. 

How  often  during  these  recent  decades  when  events 
have  seemed  to  move  faster,  when  discoveries  and 
inventions  have  been  announced  at  such  frequent  and 
brief  intervals  that  we  fail  to  note  them  all  for  lack 
of  time,  when  haste  and  rush  characterize  habits 
alike  of  life  and  thought,  do  we  find  that  we  simply 
must  stop,  as  it  were  for  breath,  while  we  unload 
a  large  amount  of  accumulated  mental  rubbish  and 
clear  a  space  in  our  storage  capacity  for  up-to-date 
knowledge !  It  is  a  decennial  mental  house-cleaning 
process.  We  must  unlearn  so  much  of  that  which  ten 
to  forty  years  ago  we  so  laboriously  learned.  We 
must  adopt  new  and  improved  reasoning  processes. 
But  it  is  hard  to  do  all  this.  For  instance,  as  a  boy  I 
learned  the  old  chemistry  quite  thoroughly.  During 
a  subsequent  interval,  when  I  did  not  need  to  study 
it,  came  the  new  chemistry,  and  when  I  again  required 
it  I  had  not  only  to  study  a  practically  new  science — 
which  was  not  so  bad — but  to  rid  my  brain  of  much 
that  had  really  found  firm  lodgment  there,  and  this 
was  difficult  or  impossible.  So  it  is  with  one  who, 
having  been  brought  up  on  Euclidean  geometry,  finds 
himself  confronted  with  the  comparatively  new  non- 


42 


THANATOLOGY 


Euclidean,  and  who  has  then  not  merely  to  forget, 
but  to  unlearn  all  those  fundamental  axioms  which 
seemed  so  plain  and  so  indisputable,  that  is,  if  he 
would  accept  the  teachings  of  Bolyai  and  others.  For 
example,  that  a  straight  line  is  not  necessarily  the 
shortest  route  between  two  points  shocks  our  Eucli¬ 
dean  orthodoxy,  and  is  at  the  same  time,  to  us,  incon¬ 
ceivable;  as  also  that  parallel  lines  indefinitely  pro¬ 
longed  may  touch,  and  the  like ;  likewise  the  concept 
of  four-dimensional  spaces,  or  worse  yet,  w-dimen- 
sional.  And  now,  in  somewhat  like  manner  and  to 
a  certain  degree,  must  we  revise  our  previous  con¬ 
ceptions  of  death,  at  least  to  this  extent:  Not  that 
we  yet  know  much  better  than  we  did  what  it  really  is, 
but  that  we  know  more  about  what  it  is  not.  Even 
save,  perhaps,  in  its  instantaneous  happening  it  is  but 
a  step  toward  dissolution,  usually  not  the  first,  cer¬ 
tainly  not  the  last,  but  yet  the  most  conspicuous. 

Death  is  in  many  respects  a  biochemical  fact.  It 
is  so  intertwined  with  ionic  changes  in  the  ar¬ 
rangement  of  matter  that  we  may  hope  for  more  in¬ 
formation  regarding  some  of  its  aspects  as  knowledge 
of  the  latter  accumulates. 

But,  evidently,  we  need  to  clarify  our  notions  as  we 
rearrange  our  facts.  Somatic  death  is,  after  all,  a 
most  complex  process.  It  may  be  shortened  by  in¬ 
stant  and  complete  incineration,  but  scarcely  in  any 
other  way.  Even  dynamite  would  scarcely  simplify 
the  problem.  As  to  conscious  death,  that  is  probably 
(though  not  certainly)  a  matter  of  seconds  only  or 


THANATOLOGY 


43 


possibly  fractions  of  a  second.  While  we  have  no 
accurate  appreciation  of  what  constitutes  conscious¬ 
ness,  nor  even  just  where  it  resides,  the  central  ner¬ 
vous  system  appears  to  be  its  most  probable  seat.  But 
conscious  death  may  occur  almost  instantly  without 
injury  to  this  system,  as  when  a  bullet  passes  through 
the  thorax  and  the  heart,  without  injuring  the  spine. 

But  what  is  it  that  suddenly  checks  all  concerted 
and  interdependent  activity?  Or  does  something  or 
some  controlling  agency  suddenly  leave  the  body? 

A  recent  theory,  having  features  to  commend  it,  is 
to  the  effect  that  life  is  a  property  or  a  feature  of  the 
ultimate  corpuscles  which  compose  the  atom.  Since 
these  corpuscles  bear  to  their  containing  atom  a  rela¬ 
tive  size  comparable  to  that  of  the  tiniest  visible  in¬ 
sect  winging  its  way  in  a  large  church  edifice,  the  in¬ 
tricacies  of  this  particular  theory  readily  appear.  But 
it  does  seem  as  though  among  ourselves  life  has  much 
to  do  with  the  hitherto  neglected  and  despised  nitro¬ 
gen  atom  or  molecule,  since  life  inheres  par  excellence 
in  nitrogen  compounds.  Moreover,  vitality  is  conspicu¬ 
ously  a  feature  of  those  chemical  elements  which  have 
the  lowest  atomic  weight ,  while  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table  of  atomic  weights  stands  radium,  of  whose 
destructive  emanations  I  have  already  spoken. 

Another  phase  of  the  general  subject  of  thanatol- 
ogy  was  suggested  especially  by  Osier,  who  a  few 
years  ago  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  but  few, 
if  any  patients  really  die  of  the  disease  from  which 
they  have  been  suffering.  This  is  not  a  paradox,  and 


44 


THANATOLOGY 


needs  only  reason  and  observation  to  confirm  it.  His 
statement  was  a  preliminary  to  the  consideration  of 
terminal  infections  and  toxemias,  which  of  itself 
would  be  sufficient  to  erect  thanatology  into  a  digni¬ 
fied  special  study.  Take,  for  instance,  a  patient  who 
has  long  suffered  from  diabetes.  The  end  is  charac¬ 
terized  by  coma,  i.  e.,  an  evidence  of  profound  tox¬ 
emia,  and  is  in  large  measure  due  to  acetonemia.  A 
patient  with  chronic  Bright’s  disease  dies  of  uremic 
poisoning,  or  one  with  pneumonia  dies  of  genuine 
heart-failure.  The  terminal  stage  of  cancer  is,  again, 
toxemia  of  one  kind  or  another,  according  as  it  has 
interfered  with  digestion,  with  respiration,  or  some 
other  vital  function,  or  has  broken  down,  thus  saturat¬ 
ing  the  patient  with  septic  products. 

This  aspect  of  the  subject  will  bear  any  amount  of 
study  and  elaboration,  and  its  mention  here  should  be 
sufficient  for  my  purpose.  Accordingly  as  it  is  prop¬ 
erly  appreciated,  it  will  be  recognized  as  having  an 
important  practical  bearing,  since,  if  we  may  foresee 
the  direction  from  which  the  final  danger  threatens, 
it  may  be  the  better  and  the  longer  averted. 

Another  very  important  and  practical  subject  is 
wrapped  up  in  this  one,  namely,  the  utilization  of 
apparently  dead,  or  at  least  of  only  potentially  living 
material  (tissue)  in  the  various  methods  of  grafting 
or  transplantation,  which  are  to-day  a  part  of  the  sur¬ 
geon’s  work.  The  methods  are  themselves  a  trans¬ 
plantation  of  experiences  gained  by  work  in  the  veg¬ 
etable  kingdom.  What  wonder  that  the  marvels  re- 


THANATOLOGY 


45 


vealed  in  one  department  should  have  incited  work 
along  parallel  lines  in  the  other  ?  That  flowers  and 
fruit  of  one  kind  may  be  made  to  grow  on  a  tree  of 
a  very  different  kind  excites  but  a  small  amount  of 
the  astonishment  it  deserves,  mainly  because  it  is  now 
a  common  occurrence,  though  properly  regarded  it 
might  seem  a  miracle. 

Differing  only  in  minor  respect  is,  for  example,  the 
removal  of  thyroidal  tissue  from  one  human  being 
and  its  implantation  into  another,  with  functional  suc¬ 
cess.  One  may  ask  just  here,  how  is  this  matter  con¬ 
cerned  with  thanatology?  And  the  reply  is:  If  this 
tissue  were  taken  from  a  fresh  corpse  it  would  be  by 
most  people  regarded  as  dead  tissue.  If  so,  does 
the  dead  come  to  life?  Without  violating  the  proper 
scientific  use  of  the  imagination  one  may  fancy  some¬ 
thing  like  the  following :  Let  a  healthy  young  wom¬ 
an  meet  accidental  and  instantaneous  death.  It  would 
be  possible  to  use  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  her 
body  for  grafting  or  other  justifiable  surgical  pro¬ 
cedures.  The  arteries  and  nerves  could  be  used,  both 
in  the  fresh  state,  and  the  former  even  after  preserva¬ 
tion,  for  suitable  transplantation  or  repair  work  on 
the  vascular  and  nervous  systems  of  a  considerable 
number  of  other  people.  So  also  could  the  thyroid, 
the  cornea,  the  ovaries  and  especially  the  bones.  All 
the  teeth,  if  healthy,  could  be  reimplanted.  With 
the  thin  bones,  ribs  especially,  plastic  operations — 
particularly  on  the  noses — of  fifty  people  could  be 
made.  And  then  the  exterior  of  the  body  could  be 


46 


THANATOLOGY 


made  to  supply  any  amount  of  normal  integument 
with  which  to  do  heterologous  dermatoplastic  opera¬ 
tions,  or  would  furnish  an  almost  inexhaustible  sup¬ 
ply  of  epidermis  for  Thiersch  grafts,  which  latter 
material  need  not  be  used  in  the  fresh  state,  but  could 
be  preserved  and  made  available  some  days  and  even 
weeks  later.  A  portion  of  the  muscles  might  possibly 
be  made  available  for  checking  oozing  from  bleeding 
surfaces  of  others,  if  used  while  still  fresh  and  warm, 
and  possibly  portions  of  the  ureters  or  some  other 
portion  of  the  remains  might  be  utilized  for  some  un¬ 
usual  purpose.  Then  what  extracts  or  extractives 
might  be  prepared  from  other  parts  of  the  body,  pit¬ 
uitary,  adrenals,  bone-marrow,  etc.?  The  tendons 
might  also  be  prepared  for  sutures.  Every  one  of 
these  procedures  would  give  promise  of  success,  the 
technic  being  in  every  respect  satisfactory. 

But  the  possible  limit  is  not  yet  reached,  since  with 
each  kidney  might  be  carried  out  experiments  like 
those  feats  of  physiologic  jugglery  such  as  Carrel  has 
shown  us,  by  implanting  one,  say  in  the  neck,  connect¬ 
ing  up  the  renal  with  the  carotid  artery,  and  the 
renal  vein  with  the  jugular,  while  some  receptacle 
would  have  to  be  provided  as  a  terminal  for  the 
ureter.  , 

This  is,  after  all,  not  a  fantastic  dream,  nor  such 
an  extreme  picture  as  would  at  first  appear,  since  every 
organ  or  tissue  above-mentioned — and  more — has 
been  used  as  indicated,  and  with  success. 

But  imagine  the  dead  body  affording  viable  pro- 


THANATOLOGY 


47 


ducts,  even  indirectly  life  itself,  to  (possibly)  so  many 
others!  Does  this  complicate  the  study  of  death? 
And  what  must  become  of  the  simple  credulous  faith 
of  the  zealot  who  believes  in  the  actual  and  absolute 
resurrection,  at  some  later  date? 

There  is  something  more  than  mere  transcendental¬ 
ism  in  the  science  of  thanatology;  it  has  a  plausible 
medicolegal  and  pragmatic  import.  Right  glad  should 
I  be  if  I  might  arouse  a  deserved  interest  in  it. 

How  may  I  more  fittingly  conclude  than  by  quoting 
a  few  lines  from  our  own  Bryant’s  “Thanatopsis” : 

“Earth  that  nourished  thee,  shall  claim 
Thy  growth,  to  be  resolved  to  earth  again, 

And,  lost  each  human  trace,  surrendering  up 
Thine  individual  being,  shalt  thou  go 
To  mix  forever  with  the  elements.” 

Though  were  I  minded  to  rehearse  certain  difficul¬ 
ties  met  in  the  preparation  of  this  paper,  which  I 
have  long  had  in  mind,  I  might  also  add  the  follow¬ 
ing  lines  from  the  same  poet’s  “Hymn  to  Death” : 

“Alas !  I  little  thought  that  the  stern  power 
Whose  fateful  praise  I  sung,  would  try  me  thus 
Before  the  strain  was  ended.” 

One  may  well  quote,  at  this  point,  Lamartine,  who 
asked,  “What  is  life  but  a  series  of  preludes  to  that 
mystery  whose  initial  solemn  note  is  tolled  by  death?” 


48 


THANATOLOGY 


(On  this  theme  Liszt  built  up  that  wonderful  sym¬ 
phonic  tone  poem  “Les  Preludes.”  ) 

Even  infinity  is  now  questioned  by  the  mathemati¬ 
cians.  This  being  the  case,  where  shall  we,  where 
can  we  stop? 

i 

Note. — While  writing  the  foregoing  paper  there  came  to 
my  notice  the  recent  book  “Death ;  Its  Causes  and  Phenomena,” 
by  Carrington  and  Meader  (London,  1911).  It  is  interesting, 
but  save  that  it  contains  a  helpful  bibliography,  is  of  little  assist¬ 
ance  to  one  wishing  to  pursue  the  study  from  its  pragmatic  as¬ 
pect.  One  of  the  authors  is  committed  to  a  personal  theory  that 
death  is  caused  by  cessation  of  the  vibrations  which  during  life 
maintain  vital  activity;  the  other  that  death  is,  as  it  were,  the  cul¬ 
mination  of  a  bad  habit  of  expectancy  that  something  of  the  kind 
must  occur,  into  which  we  have  fallen,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
other  living  beings  below  man  undergo  the  same  fate,  though 
not  capable  of  expecting  anything. 


Ill 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  SERPENT- 

WORSHIP 

SINCE  the  dawn  of  written  history,  and 
from  the  most  remote  periods,  the  serpent 
has  been  regarded  with  the  highest  ven¬ 
eration  as  the  most  mysterious  of  living 
creatures.  Being  alike  an  object  of  wonder,  ad¬ 
miration  and  fear,  it  is  not  strange  that  it  became 
early  connected  with  numerous  superstitions;  and 
when  we  remember  how  imperfectly  understood  were 
its  habits  we  shall  not  wonder  at  the  extraordinary 
attributes  with  which  it  was  invested,  nor  perhaps 
even  why  it  obtained  so  general  a  worship.  Thus 
centuries  ago  Horapollo  referring  to  serpent  symbol¬ 
ism,  said :  “When  the  Egyptians  were  representing  a 
universe  they  delineated  the  spectacle  as  a  variegated 
snake  devouring  its  own  tail,  the  scales  intimating  the 
stars  in  the  universe,  the  animal  being  extremely 
heavy,  as  is  the  earth,  and  extremely  slippery  like  the 
water;  moreover  it  every  year  puts  off  its  old  age 
with  its  skin  as,  in  the  universe,  the  recurring  year 
effects  a  corresponding  change,  and  becomes  reno¬ 
vated,  while  the  making  use  of  its  own  body  for  food 
implies  that  all  things  whatever  which  are  generated 


A  Presidential  Address  before  the  Buffalo  Society  of  Natural 
Sciences. 

49 


50  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


by  divine  providence  in  the  world  undergo  a  corrup¬ 
tion  into  them  again.” 

In  all  probability  the  annual  shedding  of  the  skin 
and  the  supposed  rejuvenation  of  the  animal  was  that 
which  first  connected  it  with  the  idea  of  eternal  suc¬ 
cession  of  form,  subsequent  reproduction  and  dissolu¬ 
tion.  This  doctrine  is  typified  in  the  notion  of  the 
succession  of  ages  which  prevailed  among  the  Greeks, 
and  the  similar  notion  met  with  among  nearly  all 
primitive  peoples.  The  ancient  mysteries,  with  few 
or  perhaps  no  exceptions,  were  all  intended  to  illus¬ 
trate  the  grand  phenomena  of  nature.  The  mysteries 
of  Osiris,  Isis  and  Horus  in  Egypt;  of  Cybele  in 
Phrygia,  of  Ceres  and  Proserpine  at  Eleusis,  of 
Venus  and  Adonis  in  Phoenicia,  of  Bona  Dea  and  of 
Priapus  in  Rome,  all  had  this  sin  common,  that  they 
both  mystified  and  typified  the  creation  of  things  and 
the  perpetuation  of  life.  In  all  of  them  the  serpent 
was  conspicuously  introduced  as  it  symbolized  and 
indicated  the  invigorating  energy  of  nature.  In  the 
mysteries  of  Ceres,  the  grand  secret  which  was  com¬ 
municated  to  the  initiates  was  put  in  this  enigma, — 
“The  bull  has  begotten  a  serpent  and  the  serpent  a 
bull,”  the  bull  being  a  prominent  emblem  of  genera¬ 
tive  force.  In  ancient  Egypt  it  was  usually  the  bull’s 
horns  which  served  as  a  symbol  for  the  entire  ani¬ 
mal.  When  with  the  progress  of  centuries  the  bull  be¬ 
came  too  expensive  an  animal  to  be  commonly  used 
for  any  purpose,  the  ram  was  substituted;  hence  the 
frequency  of  the  ram’s  horns,  as  a  symbol  for  Jove, 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  51 

seen  so  frequently,  for  example,  among  Roman  an¬ 
tiquities. 

Originally  fire  was  taken  to  be  one  of  the  em¬ 
blems  of  the  sun,  and  thus  most  naturally,  inevitably 
and  universally  the  sun  came  to  symbolize  the  active, 
vivifying  principle  of  nature.  That  the  serpent  should 
in  time  typify  the  same  principle,  while  the  egg  sym¬ 
bolized  the  more  passive  or  feminine  element,  is 
equally  certain  but  less  easy  of  explanation;  indeed 
we  are  to  regard  the  serpent  as  the  symbol  of  the  great 
hermaphrodite  first  principle  of  nature.  “It  entered 
into  the  mythology  of  every  nation,  consecrated  al¬ 
most  every  temple,  symbolized  almost  every  deity, 
was  imagined  in  the  heavens,  stamped  on  the  earth 
and  ruled  in  the  realms  of  eternal  sorrow.”  For  this 
animal  was  estimated  to  be  the  most  spirited  of  all 
reptiles  of  fiery  nature,  inasmuch  as  it  exhibits  an  in¬ 
credible  celerity,  moving  by  its  spirit  without  hands 
or  feet  or  any  of  the  external  members  by  which  oth¬ 
er  animals  effect  their  motion,  while  in  its  progress  it 
assumes  a  variety  of  forms,  moving  in  a  spiral  course 
and  darting  forward  with  whatever  degree  of  swift¬ 
ness  it  pleases. 

The  close  relationship  if  not  absolute  identity 
among  the  early  races  of  man  between  Solar,  Phallic 
and  Serpent  worship  was  most  striking;  so  marked 
indeed  as  to  indicate  that  they  are  all  forms  of  a 
single  worship.  It  is  with  the  latter  that  we  must 
for  a  little  while  concern  ourselves.  How  prom¬ 
inent  a  place  serpent  worship  plays  in  our  own  Old 


52  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


Testament  will  be  remarked  as  soon  as  one  begins  to 
reflect  upon  it.  The  part  played  by  the  serpent  in 
the  biblical  myth  concerning  the  origin  of  man  is  the 
first  and  most  striking  illustration.  In  the  degener¬ 
ated  ancient  mysteries  of  Bacchus  some  of  the  persons 
who  took  part  in  the  ceremonies  used  to  carry  ser¬ 
pents  in  their  hands  and  with  horrid  screams  call 
“Eva,  Eva;”  the  attendants  were  in  fact  often 
crowned  with  serpents  while  still  making  these  fran¬ 
tic  cries.  In  the  Sabazian  mysteries  the  snake  was 
permitted  to  slip  into  the  bosom  of  the  person  to  be 
initiated  and  then  to  be  removed  from  below  the 
clothing.  This  ceremony  was  said  to  have  originated 
among  the  Magi.  It  has  been  held  that  the  invoca¬ 
tion  “Eva”  related  to  the  great  mother  of  mankind; 
even  so  good  an  authority  as  Clemens  of  Alexandria 
held  to  this  opinion,  but  Clemens  also  acknowledges 
that  the  name  Eva,  when  properly  aspirated  is  prac¬ 
tically  the  same  as  Epha,  or  Opha,  which  the  Greeks 
call  Ophis,  which  is,  in  English,  serpent.  In  most 
of  the  other  mysteries  serpent  rites  were  introduced 
and  many  of  the  names  were  extremely  suggestive. 
The  Abaddon  mentioned  in  the  book  of  Revelation  is 
certainly  some  serpent  deity,  since  the  prefix  Ab,  sig¬ 
nifies  not  only  father,  but  serpent.  By  Zoroaster  the 
expanse  of  the  heavens  and  even  nature  itself  was 
described  under  the  symbol  of  the  serpent.  In  an¬ 
cient  Persia  temples  were  erected  to  the  serpent  tribe, 
and  festivals  consecrated  to  their  honor,  some  relic 
of  this  being  found  in  the  word  Basilicus,  or  royal 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  53 


serpent,  which  gives  rise  to  the  term  Basilica  applied 
to  the  Christian  churches  of  the  present  era.  The 
Ethiopians,  even,  of  the  present  day  derive  their 
name  from  the  Greek  Aithiopes,  meaning  the  serpent 
gods  worshipped  long  before  them;  again,  the  Island 
of  Euboea  signifies  the  Serpent  Island  and  properly 
spelled  should  be  Oub-Aia.  The  Greeks  claimed  that 
Medusa’s  head  was  brought  by  Perseus,  by  which 
they  mean  the  serpent  deity,  as  the  worship  wTas  in¬ 
troduced  into  Greece  by  a  people  called  Peresians.  The 
head  of  Medusa  denoted  divine  wisdom,  while  the 
Island  was  sacred  to  the  serpent.  The  worship  of  the 
serpent  being  so  old,  many  places  as  well  as  races  re¬ 
ceived  names  indicating  the  prevalence  of  this  general 
superstition;  but  this  is  no  time  to  catalogue  names, 
— though  one  perhaps  should  mention  Ophis,  Oboth, 
Eva  in  Macedonia,  Dracontia,  and  last  but  not  least, 
the  name  of  Eve  and  the  Garden  of  Eden. 

Seth  was,  according  to  some,  a  semi-divine  first 
ancestor  of  the  Semites;  Bunsen  has  shown  that  sev¬ 
eral  of  the  antedeluvian  descendants  of  Adam  were 
among  the  Phoenician  deities;  thus  Carthagenians 
had  as  God,  Yubal  or  Jubal  who  would  appear  to 
have  been  the  sun-god  of  Esculapius;  or,  spelled  more 
correctly,  Ju-Baal,  that  is  Beauty  of  Baal. 

Whether  or  not  the  serpent  symbol  has  a  distinct 
phallic  reference  has  been  disputed,  but  the  more  the 
subject  is  broadly  studied  the  more  it  would  seem 
that  such  is  the  case.  It  must  certainly  appear  that 
the  older  races  had  that  form  of  belief  with  which  the 


54  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


serpent  was  always  more  or  less  symbolically  con¬ 
nected,  that  is,  adoration  of  the  male  principle  of  gen¬ 
eration,  one  of  whose  principal  phases  was  undoubt¬ 
edly  ancestor  worship,  while  somewhat  later  the  race 
adored  the  female  principle  which  they  symbolized  by 
the  sacred  tree  so  often  alluded  to  in  Scripture  as  the 
Assyrian  grove.  Whether  snakes  be  represented 
singly,  coupled  in  pairs  as  in  the  well  known  Caduceus 
or  Rod  of  Esculaipius,  or  in  the  crown  placed  upon 
the  head  of  many  a  god  and  goddess,  or  the  many 
headed  snake  drinking  from  the  jewelled  cup,  or  a 
snake  twisted  around  a  tree  with  another  approaching 
it,  suggesting  temptation  and  fall, — in  all  these  the 
underlying  principle  is  always  the  same.  Symbols  of 
this  character  are  met  with  not  only  in  the  temples 
of  ancient  Egypt  but  in  ruins  antedating  them  in  Per¬ 
sia  and  the  East;  in  the  antiquities  belonging  to  the 
races  that  first  peopled  what  is  now  Greece  and  Italy, 
in  the  rock  markings  of  India  and  of  Central  Europe, 
in  the  Cromlechs  of  Great  Britain  and  Scandinavia,  in 
the  Great  Serpent  Mound  which  still  remains  in  Ohio, 
and  in  many  other  mounds  left  by  the  mound  build¬ 
ers  of  this  country,  in  the  ruins  of  Central  America 
and  Yucatan,  and  in  the  traditions  and  relics  of  the 
Aztecs  and  Toltecs, — in  fact  wherever  antiquarian  re¬ 
search  has  penetrated  or  where  monuments  of  ancient 
peoples  remain.  There  never  has  been  so  widespread 
a  superstition,  and  no  matter  what  later  forms  it  may 
have  assumed  we  must  admit  that  it,  first  of  all,  and 
for  a  long  time  was  man’s  tribute  to  the  great,  all 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  55 


powerful  and  unknown  regenerative  principle  of  na¬ 
ture,  which  has  been  deified  again  and  again,  and 
which  always  has  been  and  always  will  be  the  greatest 
mystery  within  the  ken  of  mankind. 

Brown  in  his  “Great  Dionysiak  Myth”  says  the 
serpent  has  these  points  of  connection  with  Dionysus, 
( 1 )  as  a  symbol  of  and  connected  with  wisdom,  (2) 
as  a  solar  emblem,  (3)  as  a  symbol  of  time  and  eter¬ 
nity,  (4)  as  an  emblem  of  the  earth,  life,  (5)  as 
connected  with  the  fertilizing  mystery,  (6)  as  a  phal¬ 
lic  emblem.  Referring  to  the  last  of  these  he  says: 
“The  serpent  being  connected  with  the  sun,  the  earth, 
life  and  fertility,  must  needs  be  also  a  phallic  em¬ 
blem,  and  was  appropriate  to  the  cult  of  Dionysos 
Priapos.”  Again,  Sir  G.  W.  Cox  says,  “It  is  unneces¬ 
sary  to  analyze  theories  which  profess  to  see  in  it 
worship  of  the  creeping  brute  or  the  wide-spreading 
tree;  a  religion  based  upon  the  worship  of  the  ven¬ 
omous  reptile  must  have  been  a  religion  of  terror.  In 
the  earliest  glimpses  which  we  have  the  serpent  is  the 
symbol  of  life  and  of  love,  nor  is  the  phallic  cultus 
in  any  respect  a  cult  of  the  full  grown  branching  tree.” 
Again,  “This  religion,  void  of  reason,  condemned  in 
the  wisdom  of  Solomon,  probably  survived  even 
Babylonian  captivity;  certainly  it  was  adopted  by  the 
sects  of  Christians  which  were  known  as  Ophites, 
Gnostics  and  Nicolaitans.” 

Another  learned  author  says:  “By  comparing  the 
varied  legends  of  the  East  and  West  in  conjunction 
we  obtain  a  full  outline  of  the  mythology  of  the  an- 


5  6  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


cients.  It  recognizes  as  the  primary  element  of  things 
two  independent  principles  of  nature,  the  male  and 
female,  and  these,  in  characteristic  union  as  the  soul 
and  body,  constitute  the  Great  Hermaphrodite  Deity, 
the  one,  the  universe  itself,  consisting  still  of  the  two 
separate  elements  of  its  composition,  modified  though 
combined  in  one  individual,  of  which  all  things  are  re¬ 
garded  but  as  parts.”  In  fact  the  characteristics  of 
all  pagan  deities,  male  or  female,  gradually  mold 
into  each  other  and  at  last  into  one  or  two;  for  as 
William  Jones  has  stated,  it  seems  a  well-founded 
opinion  that  the  entire  list  of  gods  and  goddesses 
means  only  the  powers  of  nature,  principally  those  of 
the  sun,  expressed  in  a  variety  of  ways  with  a  multi¬ 
tude  of  fanciful  names.  The  Creation  is,  in  fact,  hu¬ 
man  rather  than  a  divine  product  in  this  sense,  that  it 
was  suggested  to  the  mind  of  man  by  the  existence  of 
things,  while  its  method  was,  at  least  at  first,  sug¬ 
gested  by  the  operation  of  nature;  thus  man  saw  the 
living  bird  emerge  from  the  egg,  after  a  certain 
period  of  incubation,  a  phenomenon  equivalent  to  ac¬ 
tual  creation  as  apprehended  by  his  simple  mind.  In¬ 
cubation  obviously  then  associated  itself  with  creation, 
and  this  fact  will  explain  the  universality  with  which 
the  egg  was  received  as  a  symbol  in  the  earlier  sys¬ 
tems  of  cosomogony.  By  a  similar  process  creation 
came  to  be  symbolized  in  the  form  of  a  phallus,  and 
so  Egyptians  in  their  refinement  of  these  ideas  adopt¬ 
ed  as  their  symbol  of  the  great  first  cause  a  Sca- 
rabaeus,  indicating  the  great  hermaphroditic  unity, 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  57 


since  they  believed  this  insect  to  be  both  male  and 
female.  They  beautifully  typified  a  part  of  this  idea 
also  in  the  adoration  which  they  paid  to  the  water 
lily,  or  Lotus,  so  generally  regarded  as  sacred 
throughout  the  East.  It  is  the  sublime  and  beautiful 
symbol  which  perpetually  occurs  in  oriental  mythol¬ 
ogy,  and,  as  Maurice  has  stated,  not  without  substan¬ 
tial  reason,  for  it  is  its  own  beautiful  progeny  and 
contains  a  treasure  of  physical  instruction.  The  lotus 
flower  grows  in  the  water  among  broad  leaves,  while 
in  its  center  is  formed  a  seed  vessel  shaped  like  a  bell, 
punctured  on  the  top  with  small  cavities  in  which  its 
seeds  develop ;  the  openings  into  the  seed  cells  are  too 
small  to  permit  the  seeds  to  escape  when  ripe,  conse¬ 
quently  they  absorb  moisture  and  develop  within  the 
same,  shooting  forth  as  new  plants  from  the  place 
where  they  originated;  the  bulb  of  the  vessel  serv¬ 
ing  as  a  matrix  which  shall  nourish  them  until  they 
are  large  enough  to  burst  open  and  release  themselves, 
after  which  they  take  root  wherever  deposited.  “The 
plant,  therefore,  being  itself  productive  of  itself, 
vegetating  from  its  own  matrix,  being  fostered  in  the 
earth,  was  naturally  adopted  as  a  symbol  of  the  pro¬ 
ductive  power  of  the  waters  upon  which  the  creative 
spirit  of  the  Creator  acted,  in  giving  life  and  vege¬ 
tation  to  matter.  We  accordingly  find  it  employed  in 
every  part  of  the  northern  hemisphere  where  sym¬ 
bolical  religion,  improperly  called  idolatry,  existed.” 

Further  exemplification  of  the  same  underlying 
principle  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  most  all  of  the  an- 


58  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


cient  deities  were  paired;  thus  we  have  heaven  and 
earth,  sun  and  moon,  fire  and  earth,  father  and  moth¬ 
er,  etc.  Faber  says  “The  ancient  pagans  of  almost 
every  part  of  the  globe  were  wont  to  symbolize  the 
world  by  an  egg,  hence  this  symbol  is  introduced  into 
the  cosmogonies  of  nearly  all  nations,  and  there  are 
few  persons  even  among  those  who  have  made  myth¬ 
ology  their  study  to  whom  the  mundane  egg  is  not 
perfectly  famliar;  it  is  the  emblem  not  only  of  earth 
and  life  but  also  of  the  universe  in  its  largest  extent.” 
In  the  Island  of  Cyprus  is  still  to  be  seen  a  gigantic 
egg-shaped  vase  which  is  supposed  to  represent  the 
mundane  or  Orphic  egg.  It  is  of  stone,  measuring 
thirty  feet  in  circumference,  and  has  upon  it  a  sculp¬ 
tured  bull,  the  emblem  of  productive  energy.  It  is 
supposed  to  signify  the  constellation  of  Taurus,  whose 
rising  was  connected  with  the  return  of  the  mystic 
re-invigorating  principle. 

The  work  of  the  Mound  Builders  m  this  country  is 
generally  and  widely  known,  still  it  is  perhaps  not  so 
generally  known  how  common  upon  this  continent 
was  the  general  use  of  the  serpent  symbol.  Their  re¬ 
mains  are  spread  over  the  country  from  the  sources 
of  the  Allegheny  in  N.  Y.  state  westward  to  Iowa  and 
Nebraska,  to  a  considerable  extent  through  the  Mis¬ 
sissippi  Valley,  and  along  the  Susquehanna  as  far  as 
the  Valley  of  Wyoming  in  Pennsylvania.  They  are 
found  even  along  the  St.  Lawrence  River;  they  also 
line  the  shore  of  the  Gulf  from  Florida  to  Texas. 
That  they  were  erected  for  other  than  defensive  pur- 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  59 


poses  is  most  clear;  without  knowing  exactly  what 
was  the  government  of  their  builders  the  presump¬ 
tion  is  that  it  combined  both  the  priestly  and  civil 
functions,  as  obtained  centuries  ago  in  Mexico.  The 
Great  Serpent  Mound,  already  alluded  to,  had  a 
length  of  at  least  1,000  feet;  the  outline  was  per¬ 
fectly  regular  and  the  mouth  was  widely  open  as  if 
in  the  act  of  swallowing  or  ejecting  an  oval  figure, 
also  formed  of  earth,  whose  longest  diameter  was  one 
hundred  and  sixty  feet.  Again  near  Granville,  Ohio, 
occurs  the  form  of  an  alligator  in  connection  with 
which  was  indubitable  evidence  of  an  altar.  Near 
Tarlton,  Ohio,  is  another  earth  work  in  the  form  of 
a  cross.  There  is  every  reason  to  think  that  sacrifices 
were  made  upon  the  altars  nearly  always  found  in 
connection  with  these  mounds.  Among  the  various 
animal  effigies  found  in  Wisconsin,  mounds  in  the 
form  of  a  serpent  are  most  frequently  met  with,  while 
circles  enclosing  a  pentagon,  or  a  mound  with  eight 
radiating  points,  undoubtedly  representing  the  sun, 
were  also  found. 

There  would  seem  in  all  these  representations  to  be 
an  unmistakable  reference  to  that  form  of  early  cos¬ 
mogony  in  which  every  vivification  of  the  mundane 
egg  constituted  a  real  act  of  creation.  In  Japan  this 
conceptive  egg  is  allegorically  represented  by  a  nest- 
egg  shown  floating  upon  an  expanse  of  water,  against 
which  a  bulb  is  striking  with  horns.  The  Sandwich 
Islanders  have  a  tradition  that  a  bird,  which  with 
them  is  an  emblem  of  deity,  laid  an  egg  upon  the  wa- 


6o  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


ters,  which  burst  of  itself  and  thus  produced  the  Is¬ 
lands.  In  Egypt,  Kneph  was  represented  as  a  ser¬ 
pent  emitting  from  his  mouth  an  egg,  from  which  pro¬ 
ceeds  the  divinity  Phtha.  In  the  Bible  there  is  fre¬ 
quent  reference  to  seraphs;  Se  Ra  Ph  is  the  singular 
of  seraphim,  meaning,  splendor,  fire  or  light.  It  is 
emblematic  of  the  fiery  sun,  which  under  the  name  of 
the  Serpent  Dragon  was  destroyed  by  the  reformer 
Hezekiah;  or,  it  means,  also,  the  serpent  with  wings 
and  feet,  as  used  to  be  represented  in  funeral  rituals. 

Undoubtedly  Abraham  brought  with  him  from 
Chaldea  into  lower  Egypt  symbols  of  simple  phallic 
deities.  The  reference  in  the  Bible  to  the  Teraphim 
of  Jacob’s  family  reminds  us  that  Terah  was  the  name 
of  Abraham’s  father,  and  that  he  was  a  maker  of 
images.  Undoubtedly  the  Teraphim  were  the  same 
as  the  Seraphim;  that  is,  were  serpent  images  and 
were  the  household  charms  of  the  Semitic  worship¬ 
pers  of  the  Sun-God,  to  whom  the  serpent  was  sacred. 
In  Numbers,  21,  the  serpent  symbol  of  the  Exodus 
is  called  a  seraph;  moreover  when  the  people  were 
bitten  by  a  fiery  serpent  Moses  prayed  for  them,  when 
Jehovah  replied,  “Make  them  a  fiery  serpent,  (liter¬ 
ally  seraph)  and  set  it  upon  a  pole,  and  it  shall  come 
to  pass  that  every  one  who  is  bitten  when  he  looketh 
upon  it  shall  live.”  The  exact  significance  of  this 
healing  figure  of  the  serpent  is  far  to  seek. 

In  this  connection  it  must  be  remembered  also,  that 
among  several  of  the  Semitic  tongues  the  same  root 
signifies  both  serpent  and  phallus,  which  are  both  in 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  6 1 


effect  solar  emblems.  Cronus  of  the  ancient  Orphic 
theogony,  probably  identical  with  Hercules,  was  rep¬ 
resented  under  the  mixed  emblem  of  a  lion  and  a  ser¬ 
pent,  or  often  as  a  serpent  alone.  He  was  originally 
considered  Supreme,  as  is  shown  from  his  being  called 
II,  which  is  the  same  as  the  Hebrew,  El,  which  was, 
according  to  St.  Jerome,  one  of  the  ten  names  of 
God.  Damascius  in  his  life  of  Isidorus  mentions 
that  Cronus  was  worshipped  under  the  name  of  El. 
Brahm,  Cronus  and  Kneph  each  represented  the  mys¬ 
tical  union  of  the  reciprocal  or  active  and  passive 
regenerative  principles. 

The  Semitic  Deity,  Seth,  was  certainly  a  serpent 
god,  and  can  be  identified  with  Saturn  and  with  dei¬ 
ties  of  other  people.  The  common  name  of  God, 
Eloah,  among  the  Hebrews  and  other  Semites,  goes 
back  into  the  earliest  times;  indeed  Bryant  goes  so 
far  as  to  say  that  El  was  the  original  name  of  the 
Supreme  deity  among  all  the  nations  of  the  East.  He 
was  the  same  as  Cronus,  who  again  was  the  primeval 
Saturn.  Thus  Saturn  and  El  were  the  same  deity,  and 
like  Seth  were  symbolized  by  the  serpent. 

On  the  western  continent  this  great  unity  was 
equally  recognized;  in  Mexico  as  Teotl,  in  Peru  as 
Varicocha  or  the  Soul  of  the  Universe,  in  Central 
America  and  Yucatan  as  Stunah  Ku,  or  God  of  Gods. 
The  mundane  egg  was  everywhere  received  as  the 
symbol  of  the  original,  passive,  unorganized  formless 
nature,  and  later  became  associated  with  other  sym¬ 
bols  referring  to  the  creative  force  or  vitalizing  in- 


62  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


fluence,  which  was  often  represented  in  emblem  by  a 
bull.  In  the  Aztec  Pantheon  all  the  other  gods  and 
goddesses  were  pratcically  modified  impersonations 
of  these  two  principles.  In  the  simpler  mythology 
of  Peru  these  principles  took  the  form  of  the  Sun, 
and  the  Moon  his  wife.  Among  the  ruins  of  Uxmal 
are  two  long  massive  walls  of  stone  thirty  feet  thick, 
whose  inner  sides  are  embellished  with  sculpture  con¬ 
taining  fragments  of  colossal  entwined  serpents  which 
run  the  whole  length  of  the  walls ;  in  the  center  of  the 
wall  was  a  great  stone  ring. 

Among  the  annals  of  the  Mexicans  the  woman 
whose  name  old  Spanish  writers  translated  “The  wo¬ 
man  of  our  Fish”  is  always  represented  as  accom¬ 
panied  by  a  great  male  serpent.  This  serpent  is  the 
Sun-God,  the  principal  deity  of  the  Mexican  Pan¬ 
theon,  while  the  name  which  they  give  to  the  god¬ 
dess  mother  of  primitive  man  signifies  “Woman  of 
the  Serpent.” 

Inseparably  connected  with  the  serpent  as  a  phallic 
emblem  are  also  the  pyramids,  and,  as  is  well  known, 
pyramids  abound  in  Mexico  and  Central  America. 
As  Humboldt  years  ago  observed  pyramids  existed 
through  Mexico,  in  the  forests  of  Papantha  at  a  short 
distance  above  sea-level;  on  the  plains  of  Cholula 
and  of  Teotihuacan,  and  at  an  elevation  which  ex¬ 
ceeds  those  of  the  passes  of  the  Alps.  In  most  widely 
different  nations,  in  climates  most  different,  man  seems 
to  have  adopted  the  same  style  of  construction,  the 
same  ornaments,  the  same  customs,  and  to  have  placed 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  63 


himself  under  the  government  of  the  same  political 
institutions.  Mayer  describing  one  of  his  trips  says, 
“I  constantly  saw  serpents  in  the  city  of  Mexico, 
carved  in  stone  and  in  the  various  collections  of  an¬ 
tiquities.”  The  symbolic  feathered  serpent  was  by  no 
means  peculiar  to  Mexico  and  Yucatan.  Squier  en¬ 
countered  it  in  Nicaragua  on  the  summits  of  volcanic 
ridges;  even  among  our  historic  Indian  tribes,  for 
example  among  the  Lenni  Lenape,  they  called  the 
rattlesnake  “grandfather,”  and  made  offerings  of 
tobacco  to  it.  Furthermore  in  most  of  the  Indian 
traditions  of  the  Manitou  the  great  serpent  figures 
most  conspicuously. 

It  has  been  often  remarked  that  every  feature  of 
the  religion  of  the  new  world  discovered  by  Cortez 
and  Pizarro  indicates  a  common  origin  for  the  su¬ 
perstitions  of  both  continents,  for  we  have  the  same 
worship  of  the  sun,  the  same  pyramidal  monuments, 
and  the  same  universal  veneration  of  the  serpent. 
Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  the  serpent  symbol  had  a 
wide  acceptance  upon  this  continent  as  well  as  the 
other,  and  among  the  uncivilized  and  semi-barbaric 
races;  that  it  entered  widely  into  all  symbolic  repre¬ 
sentation  with  an  almost  universal  significance.  Per¬ 
haps  the  latest  evidences  of  the  persistence  of  this  be¬ 
lief  may  be  seen  in  the  tradition  ascribing  to  St.  Pat¬ 
rick,  the  credit  of  having  driven  all  the  serpents  from 
Irish  soil;  or  in  the  perpetuation  of  rites,  festivals  and 
representations  whose  obsolete  origin  is  now  forgot¬ 
ten.  For  instance  the  annual  May-day  festival,  scarce- 


6 4  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


ly  yet  discontinued,  is  certainly  of  this  origin,  yet  few 
if  any  of  those  who  participate  in  it  are  aware  that 
it  is  only  the  perpetuation  of  the  vernal  solar  festival 
of  Baal,  and  that  the  garlanded  May-pole  was  an¬ 
ciently  a  phallic  emblem.  Among  men  of  my  own 
craft  the  traditions  of  Aesculapius  are  familiar. 
Aesculapius  is,  however,  inseparably  connected  with 
the  serpent  myth  and  in  statues  and  pictures  he  is  al¬ 
most  always  represented  in  connection  with  a  serpent. 
Thus  he  is  seen  with  the  Caduceus  or  the  winged 
wand  entwined  by  two  serpents,  or,  sometimes  with 
serpents’  bodies  wound  around  his  own;  but  rarely 
ever  without  some  serpent  emblem.  Moreover  the 
Caduceus  is  identical  with  the  simple  figure  of  the 
Cross  by  which  its  inventor,  Thoth,  is  said  to  have 
symbolized  the  four  elements  proceeding  from  a  com¬ 
mon  center.  In  connection  with  the  Cross  it  is  inter¬ 
esting  also  that  in  many  places  in  the  East  serpent 
worship  was  not  immediately  destroyed  by  the  advent 
of  Christianity.  The  Gnostics  for  example,  among 
Christian  sects,  united  it  with  the  religion  of  the 
Cross,  as  might  be  shown  by  many  quotations  from 
religious  writers.  The  serpent  clinging  to  the  Cross 
was  used  as  a  symbol  of  Christ,  and  a  form  of  Chris¬ 
tian  serpent  worship  was  for  a  long  time  in  vogue 
among  many  beside  the  professed  Ophites.  In  the 
celebration  of  the  Bacchic  mysteries  the  mystery  of 
religion,  as  usual  throughout  the  world,  was  concealed 
in  a  chest  or  box.  The  Israelites  had  their  sacred 
Ark,  and  every  nation  has  had  some  sacred  receptacle 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  65 


for  holy  things  and  symbols.  The  worshippers  of 
Bacchus  carried  in  their  consecrated  baskets  the  mys¬ 
tery  of  their  God,  while  after  their  banquet  it  was 
usual  to  pass  around  the  cup  which  was  called  “The 
Cup  of  the  Good  Daemon,”  whose  symbol  was  a  ser¬ 
pent.  This  was  long  before  the  institution  of  the 
rite  of  the  Last  Supper.  The  fable  of  the  method  by 
which  the  god  Aesculapius  was  brought  from  Epi- 
daurus  to  Rome,  and  the  serpentine  form  in  which  he 
appeared  before  his  arrival  in  Rome  for  the  purpose 
of  checking  the  terrible  pestilence,  are  well  known. 
The  serpentine  column  which  still  stands  in  the  old 
race  course  in  Constantinople  is  certainly  a  relic  of 
serpent  worship,  though  this  fact  was  not  appreciated 
by  Constantine  when  he  set  it  up. 

The  significance  of  the  Ark  is  not  to  be  overlooked. 
First,  Noah  was  directed  to  take  with  him  into  the 
Ark  animals  of  every  kind.  But  this  historical  ab¬ 
surdity,  read  aright  and  in  its  true  phallic  sense,  means 
that  the  Ark  was  the  sacred  Argha  of  Hindoo  myth¬ 
ology,  which  like  the  moon  in  Zoroastrian  teachings, 
carries  in  itself  the  germ  of  all  things.  Read  in  this 
sense  the  thing  is  no  longer  incomprehensible.  As 
En  Arche  (in  the  beginning)  Elohim  created  the 
Heavens  and  the  Earth,  so  in  the  Ark  were  the  seeds 
of  all  things  preserved  that  they  might  again  repop¬ 
ulate  the  earth.  Thus  this  Ark  of  Noah,  or  of  Osiris, 
the  primeval  ship  whose  navigation  has  been  ascribed 
to  various  mythological  beings,  was  in  fact  the  Moon 
or  the  Ship  of  the  Sun,  in  which  his  seed  is  supposed 


66  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


to  be  hidden  until  it  bursts  forth  in  new  life  and  pow¬ 
er.  But  the  dove  which  figures  so  conspicuously  in 
the  biblical  legend  was  consecrated  to  Venus  in  all  her 
different  names,  in  Babylon,  in  Syria,  in  Palestine  and 
in  Greece;  it  even  attended  upon  Janus  in  his  Voy¬ 
age  of  the  Golden  Fleece.  And  so  the  story  of  Jonah 
going  to  Joppa,  a  seaport  where  Dagon,  the  Fish- 
God  was  worshipped,  and  of  the  great  fish,  bears  a 
suspicious  relation  to  the  same  cult,  for  the  fish  was 
revered  at  Joppa  as  was  the  dove  at  Nineveh. 

It  has  been  impossible  to  dissociate  serpent  and 
serpent  worship  from  Aesculapius.  This  is  not  be¬ 
cause  this  mythological  divinity  is  supposed  to  have 
been  the  founder  of  my  profession,  but  because  he  has 
been  given  at  all  times  a  serpentine  form  and  has 
been,  apparently,  on  the  most  familiar  terms  with  the 
animal.  Pausanias,  indeed,  assures  us  that  he  often 
appeared  in  serpentine  form,  and  the  Roman  citizens 
of  two  thousand  years  ago  saw  in  this  god  “in 
reptilian  form  an  object  of  high  regard  and  wor¬ 
ship.”  When  this  divinity  was  invited  to  make  Rome 
his  home,  in  accordance  with  the  oracle,  he  is  repre¬ 
sented  as  saying: 

“I  come  to  leave  my  shrine; 

This  serpent  view,  that  with  ambitious  play 
My  staff  encircles;  mark  him  every  way; 

His  form  though  larger,  nobler,  I’ll  assume, 

And,  changed  as  God’s  should  be,  bring  aid  to 
Rome.” 


(Ovid:  Metamorphosis  XV). 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  67 


When  in  due  time  this  salutary  serpent  arrived  upon 
the  island  in  the  Tiber  he  began  to  assume  his  nat¬ 
ural  form,  whatever  that  may  have  been; 

“And  now  no  more  the  drooping  city  mourns, 

Joy  is  again  restored  and  health  returns.” 

Considering  then  the  intimate  relation  between 
the  founder  of  medicine  and  the  serpent  it  will  not 
seem  strange  to  you  that  the  serpent  myth  is  a  sub¬ 
ject  of  keen  interest  to  every  student  of  the  history  of 
medicine. 

This  devotion  to  serpent  worship  appears  to  have 
lingered  a  long  time  in  Italy,  for  so  late  as  the  year 
1001  a  bronze  serpent  on  the  basillica  of  St.  Ambrose 
was  worshipped.  De  Gubernatis  speaking  of  it  says, 
“Some  say  it  was  the  serpent  Aesculapius,  others 
Moses,  others  that  it  was  the  image  of  Christ;  for  us 
it  is  enough  to  remark  that  it  was  a  mythological  ser¬ 
pent  before  which  the  Milanese  mothers  offered  their 
children  when  they  suffered  from  worms,  in  order  to 
relieve  them,”  a  practice  which  was  finally  suppressed 
by  San  Carlo.  Moreover,  there  has  persisted  until 
recently  what  is  called  a  snake  festival  in  a  little 
mountain  church  near  Naples,  where  those  partici¬ 
pating  carry  snakes  around  their  persons,  the  purpose 
of  the  festival  being  to  preserve  the  participants  from 
poison  and  sudden  death  and  bring  them  good  for¬ 
tune.  (Sozinskey). 

The  power  of  the  sun  over  health  and  disease  was 


68  SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP 


long  ago  recognized  in  the  old  Chaldean  hymn  in 
which  the  sun  is  petitioned  thus: 

“Thou  at  thy  coming  cure  the  race  of  man; 

Cause  the  ray  of  health  to  shine  upon  him; 

Cure  his  disease.” 

Probably  some  feeling  akin  to  that  voiced  in  this 
way  gave  rise  to  the  following  beautiful  passage  in 
Malachi  (4:2)  : 

“The  Sun  of  Righteousness  shall  arise  with  healing 
in  His  wings.” 

As  a  purely  medical  symbol  the  serpent  is  meant  to 
symbolize  prudence;  long  ago  men  were  enjoined  to 
be  “As  wise  as  serpents”  as  well  as  harmless  as  doves. 
In  India  the  serpent  is  still  regarded  as  a  symbol  of 
every  species  of  learning.  It  has  also  another  med¬ 
ical  meaning,  namely,  convalescence ,  for  which  there 
is  afforded  some  ground  in  the  remarkable  change 
which  it  undergoes  every  spring  from  a  state  of  leth¬ 
argy  to  one  of  active  life. 

According  to  Ferguson,  the  experience  of  Moses 
and  the  Children  of  Israel  with  brazen  serpents  led 
to  the  first  recorded  worship  paid  to  the  serpent, 
which  is  also  noteworthy,  since  the  cause  of  this  ador¬ 
ation  is  said  to  have  been  its  intrinsic  healing  power. 
The  prototype  of  the  brazen  serpent  of  Moses  in  lat¬ 
ter  times  was  the  Good  Genius,  the  Agathodaemon  of 


SERPENT-MYTHS  AND  WORSHIP  69 


the  Greeks,  which  was  regarded  always  with  the 
greatest  favor  and  usually  accorded  considerable  pow¬ 
er  over  disease. 

The  superstitious  tendency  to  regard  disease  and 
death  as  the  visitation  of  a  more  or  less  capricious 
act  by  some  extra  mundane  power  persists  even  to  the 
present  day.  For  example,  in  the  Episcopal  book  of 
Common  Prayer,  it  is  stated,  in  the  Order  for  the 
Visitation  of  the  Sick,  “Wherefore,  whatsoever  your 
sickness  be,  know  you  certainly  that  it  is  God’s  visita¬ 
tion,”  while  for  relief  the  following  sentiment  is  for¬ 
mulated  in  prayer,  “Lord  look  down  from  heaven,  be¬ 
hold,  visit  and  relieve  these,  thy  servants,”  thus  voic¬ 
ing  the  very  ideas  which  were  current  among  various 
peoples  of  remote  antiquity  and  eliminating  all  pos¬ 
sibility  of  such  a  thing  as  the  regulation  of  disease  or 
of  sanitary  medicine. 


\ 


IV 

IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 

SO  soon  as  had  subsided  the  feeling  of  surprise, 
caused  by  a  most  unexpected  invitation  to  ad¬ 
dress  you  to-night,  I  began  at  once  to  cast 
about  for  a  subject  with  which  I  might  en¬ 
deavor  so  to  interest  you  as  to  justify  the  high  and 
appreciated  compliment  which  this  invitation  mutely 
conveyed.  And  so,  after  considerable  reflection,  it 
appeared  to  me  that  it  was  perhaps  just  as  well  that 
medical  men  should  be  entertained,  even  at  such  a 
gathering  as  this,  by  something  which  if  not  of  the 
profession  was  at  least  for  the  profession,  and  still  not 
too  remote  from  the  purposes  which  have  drawn 
us  together.  Accordingly  I  decided  to  forsake  the 
beaten  path  and,  instead  of  selecting  a  topic  in  path¬ 
ology  or  in  surgery,  upon  which  I  could  possibly  speak 
with  some  familiarity,  to  invite  your  attention  to  a 
subject  which  has  always  been  of  the  greatest  interest 
to  me,  yet  upon  which  it  has  been  hard,  without  great 
labor  and  numerous  books,  to  get  much  information. 
If  I  were  to  attempt  to  formulate  this  topic  under  a 
distinctive  name  I  could  perhaps  call  it  Medico-Chris- 
tian  Symbolism.  It  is  well  known  to  scholars  that 
practically  all  of  the  symbols  and  symbolism  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  have  come  from  pagan  sources,  having  been 


An  Address  before  the  Maine  Medical  Association,  Portland, 
June  2nd,  1898. 

70 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  7 1 


carried  over,  as  one  might  say,  across  the  line  of  the 
Christian  era,  from  one  to  the  other,  in  the  most 
natural  and  unavoidable  way,  although  most  of  these 
symbols  and  caricatures  have  more  or  less  lost  their 
original  signification  and  have  been  given  another  of 
purely  Christian  import. 

To  acknowledge  that  this  is  so  is  to  cast  no  slur 
upon  Christianity;  it  is  simply  recording  an  historical 
fact.  It  would  take  me  too  far  from  my  purpose  to¬ 
night  were  I  to  go  into  the  reasons  which  brought 
about  this  change;  I  simply  want  to  disavow  all  in¬ 
tention  of  making  light  of  serious  things,  or  of  re¬ 
flecting  in  any  way  upon  the  nobility  of  the  Chris¬ 
tian  Church,  its  meanings  or  its  present  practices. 
But,  accepting  the  historical  fact  that  Christian  sym¬ 
bols  were  originally  pagan  caricatures,  I  want  to  ask 
you  to  study  with  me  for  a  little  while  the  original 
signification  of  these  pagan  symbols,  feeling  that  I 
can  perhaps,  interest  you  in  such  a  study  providing 
that  it  can  be  shown  that  almost  all  of  these  em¬ 
blems  had  originally  an  essentially  medical  signifi¬ 
cance,  referring  in  some  way  or  other  either  to  ques¬ 
tions  of  health  and  disease,  or  else  to  the  deeper  ques¬ 
tion  of  the  origin  of  mankind  and  the  great  genera¬ 
tive  powers  of  nature,  at  which  physicians  to-day  won¬ 
der  as  much  as  they  did  two  thousand  years  ago. 
Considering  then  the  medical  significance  of  such 
study  I  have  been  tempted  to  incur  the  charge  of  be¬ 
ing  pedantic  and  have  coined  the  term  Iatro-Theurgic 
Symbolism ,  which  title  I  shall  give  to  the  essay  which 


7 2  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 


I  shall  present  to  you  to-night. 

As  Inman  says,  “Moderns  who  have  not  been  in¬ 
itiated  in  the  sacred  mysteries  and  only  know  the  em¬ 
blems  considered  sacred,  have  need  of  both  anatom¬ 
ical  knowledge  and  physiological  lore  ere  they  can 
see  the  meaning  of  many  signs.”  The  emblems  or 
symbols  then,  to  which  I  shall  particularly  allude,  are 
the  Cross,  the  Tree  and  Grove,  the  Fish,  the  Dove , 
and  the  Serpent.  And  first  of  all  the  Cross,  about 
which  very  erroneous  notions  prevail.  It  is  seen 
everywhere  either  as  a  matter  of  personal  or  church 
adornment,  or  as  an  architectural  feature,  and  every¬ 
where  the  impression  prevails  that  it  is  exclusively  a 
Christian  symbol.  This,  however,  is  the  grossest 
of  errors,  for  the  world  abounds  in  cruciform  sym¬ 
bols  and  monuments  which  existed  long  before  Chris¬ 
tianity  was  thought  of.  It  is  otherwise  however  with 
the  Crucifix  which  is,  of  course,  an  absolutely  Chris¬ 
tian  symbol.  The  image  of  a  dead  man  stretched 
out  upon  the  Cross  is  a  purely  Christian  addition  to 
a  purely  pagan  emblem,  though  some  of  the  old  Hin¬ 
doo  crosses  remind  one  of  it  very  powerfully.  No 
matter  upon  which  continent  we  look  we  see  every¬ 
where  the  same  cruciform  sign  among  peoples  and 
races  most  distinct.  There  perhaps  has  never  been 
so  universal  a  symbol,  with  the  exception  of  the  ser¬ 
pent.  Moreover  the  cross  is  a  sort  of  international 
feature,  and  is  spoken  of  in  its  modifications  as  St. 
Andrew’s,  St.  George’s,  the  Maltese,  the  Greek,  the 
Latin,  etc.  Probably  because  of  its  extreme  simplic- 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  73 


ity  the  ages  have  brought  but  little  change  in  its  shape, 
and  the  bauble  of  the  jeweller  of  to-day  is  practically 
the  same  sign  that  the  ancient  Egyptian  painted  upon 
the  mummy  cloth  of  his  sacred  dead.  Thus  it  will  ap¬ 
pear  that  the  shadow  of  the  Cross  was  cast  far  back 
into  the  night  of  ages.  The  Druids  consecrated  their 
sacred  oak  by  cutting  it  into  the  shape  of  a  cross,  and 
when  the  natural  shape  of  the  tree  was  not  sufficient 
it  was  pieced  out  as  the  case  required.  When  the 
Spaniards  invaded  this  continent  they  were  overcome 
with  surprise  at  finding  the  sign  of  the  Cross  every¬ 
where  in  common  use.  It  was  by  the  community  of 
this  emblem  between  the  two  peoples  that  the 
Spaniards  enjoyed  a  less  war-like  reception  than  would 
otherwise  have  been  accorded  to  them. 

That  the  Cross  was  originally  a  phallic  emblem  is 
proven,  among  other  things,  by  the  origin  of  the  so- 
called  Maltese  Cross,  which  originally  was  carved  out 
of  solid  granite,  and  represented  by  four  huge  phalli 
springing  from  a  common  center,  which  were  after¬ 
ward  changed  by  the  Knights  of  St.  John  of  Malta  in¬ 
to  four  triangles  meeting  at  a  central  globe;  thus  we 
see  combined  the  symbol  of  eternal  and  the  emblem  of 
constantly  renovating  life.  The  reason  why  the 
Maltese  Cross  had  so  distinctly  a  phallic  origin,  and 
why  the  Knights  of  St.  John  saw  fit  to  make  some¬ 
thing  more  decent  of  it,  is  not  clear,  but  a  study  of 
Assyrian  antiquities  of  the  days  of  Nineveh  and 
Babylon  shows  that  it  referred  to  the  four  great  gods 
of  the  Assyrian  Pantheon,  and  that  with  a  due  set- 


74  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 


ting  it  signifies  the  sun  ruling  both  the  earth  and  heav¬ 
ens.  Schliemann  discovered  many  examples  of  it  on 
the  vases  which  he  exhumed  from  the  ruins  of  Troy. 

But  probably  the  most  remarkable  of  all  crosses  is 
that  which  is  exceedingly  common  upon  Egyptian 
monuments  and  is  known  as  the  Crux-Ansata,  that 
is  the  handled  cross,  which  consisted  of  the  ordinary 
Greek  Tail  or  cross,  with  a  ring  on  the  top.  When 
the  Egyptian  was  asked  what  he  meant  by  this  sign  he 
simply  replied  that  it  was  a  divine  mystery,  and  such 
it  has  largely  remained  ever  since.  It  was  constantly 
seen  in  the  hands  of  Isis  and  Osiris.  In  nearly  the 
same  shape  the  Spaniards  found  it  when  they  first 
came  to  this  continent.  The  natives  said  that  it  meant 
“Life  to  come.” 

In  the  British  Museum  one  may  see,  in  the  Assyrian 
galleries,  effigies  in  stone  of  certain  kings  from  whose 
necks  are  suspended  sculptured  Maltese  crosses,  such 
as  the  Catholics  call  the  Pectoral  Cross.  In  Egypt, 
long  before  Christ,  the  sacred  Ibis  was  represented 
with  human  hands  and  feet,  holding  the  staff  of  Isis 
in  one  hand  and  the  Cross  in  the  other.  The  ancient 
Egyptian  astronomical  signs  of  planets  contained  nu¬ 
merous  crosses.  Saturn  was  represented  by  a  cross 
surmounting  a  ram’s  horn;  Jupiter  by  a  cross  beneath 
a  horn,  Venus  by  a  cross  beneath  a  circle  (practically 
the  Crux-Ansata) ,  the  Earth  by  a  cross  within  the 
circle,  and  Mars  by  a  circle  beneath  the  cross;  many 
of  these  signs  are  in  use  to-day.  Between  the  Budd¬ 
hist  crosses  of  India  and  those  of  the  Roman  church 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  75 


are  remarkable  resemblances;  the  former  were  fre¬ 
quently  placed  upon  a  Calvary  as  is  the  Catholic  cus¬ 
tom  to-day.  The  cross  is  found  among  the  hiero¬ 
glyphics  of  China  and  upon  Chinese  pagodas,  and 
upon  the  lamps  with  which  they  illuminated  their  tem¬ 
ples.  Upon  the  ancient  Phoenician  medals  were  in¬ 
scribed  the  Cross,  the  Rosary  and  the  Lamb.  In 
England  there  has  been  for  a  long  time  the  custom  of 
eating  the  so-called  Hot-Cross  Buns  upon  Good  Fri¬ 
day: — this  is  no  more  than  a  reproduction  of  a  cake 
marked  with  a  cross  which  used  to  be  duly  offered  to 
the  serpent  and  the  bull  in  heathen  temples,  as  also  to 
human  idols.  It  was  made  of  flour  and  milk,  or  oil, 
and  was  often  eaten  with  much  ceremony  by  priests 
and  people. 

Perhaps  the  most  ancient  of  all  forms  of  the  cross 
is  the  cruciform  hammer  known  sometimes  as  Thor’s 
Battle  Ax.  In  this  form  it  was  venerated  by  the 
heroes  of  the  North  as  a  magical  sign,  which  thwart¬ 
ed  the  power  of  death  over  those  who  bore  it.  Even 
to-day  it  is  employed  by  the  women  of  India  and  cer¬ 
tain  parts  of  Africa  as  indicating  the  possession  of  a 
taboo  with  which  they  protect  their  property.  It  has 
been  stated  that  this  was  the  mark  which  the  prophet 
was  commanded  to  impress  upon  the  foreheads  of  the 
faithful  in  Judah.  (Ezekiel  9:4). 

It  is  of  interest  also  as  being  almost  the  last  of  the 
purely  pagan  symbols  to  be  religiously  preserved  in 
Europe  long  after  the  establishment  of  Christianity, 
since  to  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages  the  Cistercean 


7 6  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 


monk  wore  it  upon  his  stole.  It  may  be  seen  upon 
the  bells  of  many  parish  churches,  where  it  was  placed 
as  a  magical  sign  to  subdue  the  vicious  spirit  of  the 
tempest. 

The  original  cross,  no  matter  what  its  form,  had 
but  one  meaning;  it  represented  creative  power  and 
eternity.  In  Egypt,  Assyria  and  Britain,  in  India, 
China  and  Scandinavia,  it  was  an  emblem  of  life  and 
immortality;  upon  this  continent  it  was  the  sign  of 
freedom  from  suffering,  and  everywhere  it  sym¬ 
bolized  resurrection  and  life  to  come.  Moreover 
from  its  common  combination  with  the  yoni  or  fe¬ 
male  emblem,  we  may  conclude,  with  Inman,  that  the 
ancient  Cross  was  an  emblem  of  the  belief  in  a  male 
Creator  and  the  method  by  which  creation  was  in¬ 
itiated. 

Next  to  the  Cross,  the  Tree  of  Life  of  the  Egyp¬ 
tians  furnishes  perhaps  the  most  ancient  and  univer¬ 
sal  symbol  of  immortality.  The  tree  is  probably  the 
most  generally  received  symbol  of  life,  and  has  been 
regarded  as  the  most  appropriate.  The  fig  tree  espe¬ 
cially  has  had  the  highest  place  in  this  regard.  From 
it  gods  and  holy  men  ascended  to  heaven;  before  it 
thousands  of  barren  women  have  worshipped  and 
made  offerings;  under  it  pious  hermits  have  become 
enlightened,  and  by  rubbing  together  fragments  of  its 
wood,  holy  fire  has  been  drawn  from  heaven. 

An  anonymous  Catholic  writer  has  stated,  “No  re¬ 
ligion  is  founded  upon  international  depravity.  Search¬ 
ing  back  for  the  origin  of  life,  men  stopped  at  the 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  77 


earliest  point  to  which  they  could  trace  it  and  exalted 
the  reproductive  organs  in  the  symbols  of  the  Cre¬ 
ator.  The  practice  was  at  least  calculated  to  pro¬ 
cure  respect  for  a  side  of  nature  liable,  under  an  ex¬ 
clusively  spiritual  regime,  to  be  relegated  to  undue 
contempt.  *  *  *  Even  Moses  himself  fell  back 

upon  it  when,  yielding  to  a  pressing  emergency,  he 
gave  his  sanction  to  serpent  worship  by  his  elevation 
of  the  brazen  serpent  upon  a  pole  or  cross,  for  all 
portions  of  this  structure  constituted  the  most  univer¬ 
sally  accepted  symbol  of  sex  in  the  world.” 

As  perfectly  consistent  with  the  ancient  doctrine 
that  deity  is  both  male  and  female  take  this  thought 
from  Proclus,  who  quotes  the  following  among  other 
Orphic  verses : 

“Jupiter  is  a  man;  Jupiter  is  also  an  immortal 
maid;”  while  in  the  same  commentary  we  read  that 
“All  things  were  contained  in  the  womb  of  Jupiter.” 

In  this  connection  it  was  quite  customary  to  depict 
Jupiter  as  a  female,  sometimes  with  three  heads; 
often  the  figure  was  drawn  with  a  serpent  and  was 
venerated  under  the  symbol  of  fire.  It  was  then 
called  Mythra  and  was  worshipped  in  secret  caverns. 
The  rites  of  this  worship  were  quite  well  known  to 
the  Romans. 

The  hermaphrodite  element  of  religion  is  sex  wor¬ 
ship;  gods  are  styled  he — she;  Synesius  gives  an  in¬ 
scription  on  an  Egyptian  deity,  “Thou  art  the  father 
and  thou  art  the  mother;  thou  art  the  male  and  thou 
art  the  female.”  Baal  was  of  uncertain  sex  and  his 


78  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 


votaries  usually  invoked  him  thus,  “Hear  us  whether 
thou  art  god  or  goddess.”  Heathens  seem  to  have 
made  their  gods  hermaphrodites  in  order  to  express 
both  the  generative  and  prolific  virtue  of  their  deities. 
I  have  myself  heard  one  of  the  finest  living  Hindoo 
scholars,  a  convert  to  Christianity,  invoke  the  God 
of  the  Christian  Church  both  as  father  and  as  mother. 

The  most  significant  and  distinctive  feature  of  na¬ 
ture  worship  certainly  had  to  do  with  phallic  em¬ 
blems.  This  viewed  in  the  light  of  ancient  times 
simply  represented  allegorically  that  mysterious  union 
of  the  male  and  female  principle  which  seems  neces¬ 
sary  to  the  existence  of  animate  beings.  If,  in  the 
course  of  time,  it  sadly  degenerated,  we  may  lament 
the  fact,  while,  nevertheless,  not  losing  sight  of  the 
purity  and  exalted  character  of  the  original  idea.  Of 
its  extensive  prevalence  there  is  ample  evidence,  since 
monuments  indicating  such  worship  are  spread  over 
both  continents  and  have  been  recognized  in  Egypt, 
India,  Assyria,  Western  Europe,  Mexico,  Peru,  Hayti 
and  the  Pacific  Islands.  Without  doubt  the  genera¬ 
tive  act  was  originally  considered  as  a  solemn  sacra¬ 
ment  in  honor  of  the  Creator.  As  Knight  has  in¬ 
sisted,  the  indecent  ideas  later  attached  to  it,  para¬ 
doxical  as  it  may  seem,  were  the  result  of  the  more 
advanced  civilization  tending  toward  its  decline,  as 
we  see  in  Rome  and  Pompeii.  Voltaire  speaking  of 
phallic  worship  says  “Our  ideas  of  propriety  lead  us 
to  suppose  that  a  ceremony  which  appears  to  us  so 
infamous  could  only  be  invented  by  licentiousness,  but 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  79 


it  is  impossible  to  believe  that  depravity  of  manners 
would  ever  lead  among  any  people  to  the  establish¬ 
ment  of  religious  ceremonies.  It  is  probable,  on  the 
contrary,  that  this  custom  was  first  introduced  in 
times  of  simplicity,  and  that  the  first  thought  was  to 
honor  a  deity  in  the  symbol  of  life  which  it  gives  us.” 

The  so-called  Jewish  rite  of  circumcision  was  prac¬ 
ticed  among  Egyptians  and  Phoenicians  long  before 
the  birth  of  Abraham.  It  had  a  marked  religious  sig¬ 
nificance,  being  a  sign  of  the  Covenant,  and  was  a 
patriarchal  observance  because  it  was  always  per¬ 
formed  by  the  head  of  the  family.  Indeed  on  the  au¬ 
thority  of  the  Veda,  we  learn  that  this  was  the  case 
also  even  among  the  primitive  Aryan  people. 

Later  in  the  centuries,  as  Patterson  has  observed, 
obscene  methods  became  the  principal  feature  of  the 
popular  superstition  and  were,  in  after  times,  even 
extended  to  and  intermingled  with  gloomy  rites  and 
bloody  sacrifices.  The  mysteries  of  Ceres  and  Bac¬ 
chus  celebrated  at  Eleusis  were  probably  the  most 
celebrated  of  all  the  Grecian  observances.  The  ad¬ 
dition  of  Bacchus  was  comparatively  a  late  one,  and 
this  name  Bacchus  was  first  spelled  lacchos;  the  first 
half,  lao ,  being  in  all  probability  related  to  Jao  which 
appears  in  Jupiter  or  Jovispater,  and  to  the  Hebrew 
Yahve,  or  Jehovah.  Jao  was  the  Harvest  God  and 
consequently  the  god  of  the  grape,  hence  his  close 
relation  to  Bacchus.  How  completely  these  Elusinian 
mysteries  degenerated  into  Bacchic  orgies  is  of  course 
a  matter  of  written  history. 


8o  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 


I  have  not  yet  alluded  to  the  reverence  paid  to  the 
fish,  both  as  phallic  emblem  and  as  a  Christian  sym¬ 
bol.  The  supposition  that  the  reason  why  the  fish 
played  so  large  a  part  in  early  Christian  symbolism 
was  because  of  the  fact  that  each  letter  of  the  Greek 
word  Ichthus  could  be  made  the  beginning  of  words 
which  when  fully  spelled  out,  read  Jesus  Christ,  the 
Son  of  God,  etc.,  is  altogether  too  far-fetched;  though 
it  be  true  it  is  a  scholastic  trick  to  juggle  with  words 
in  this  way  rather  than  to  find  for  them  a  proper 
signification. 

Among  the  Egyptians  and  many  other  nations,  the 
greatest  reverence  was  paid  to  this  animal.  Among 
the  natives  the  rivers  which  contained  them  were  es¬ 
teemed  more  or  less  sacred;  the  common  people  did 
not  feed  upon  them  and  the  priests  never  tasted  them, 
because  of  their  reputed  sanctity,  while  at  times  they 
were  worshipped  as  real  deities.  Cities  were  named 
after  them  and  temples  built  to  them.  In  different 
parts  of  Egypt  different  fish  were  worshipped  in¬ 
dividually;  the  Greek  comedians  even  made  fun  of 
the  Egyptians  because  of  this  fact.  Dagon  figures  as 
the  Fish-god,  and  the  female  deity  known  as  Athor, 
in  Egypt,  is  undoubtedly  the  same  as  Aphrodite  of  the 
Greeks  and  Venus  of  the  Romans,  who  were  believed 
to  have  sprung  from  the  sea.  Lucian  tells  us  that 
this  worship  was  of  great  antiquity;  strange  as  this 
idolatry  may  appear,  it  was  yet  most  wide-spread  and 
included  also  the  veneration  which  the  Egyptians,  be¬ 
fore  Moses,  paid  to  the  river  Nile. 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  8 1 


It  is  important  to  remember  that  Nun,  the  name 
of  the  father  of  Joshua,  is  the  Semitic  word  for  fish, 
while  the  phallic  character  of  the  fish  in  Chaldean 
mythology  cannot  be  gainsaid.  Nim,  the  planet  Sa¬ 
turn,  was  the  fish-god  of  Berosus,  and  the  same  as  the 
Assyrian  god  Asshur,  whose  name  and  office  are 
strikingly  similar  to  those  of  the  Hebrew  leader 
Joshua. 

Corresponding  to  the  ancient  phallus  or  lingam, 
which  was  the  masculine  phallic  symbol,  we  have  the 
Kteis  or  Yoni  as  the  symbol  of  the  female  principle; 
but  an  emblem  of  similar  import  is  often  to  be  met 
with  in  the  shape  of  the  shell,  the  fig  leaf  or  the  letter 
delta,  as  may  be  frequently  seen  from  ancient  coins 
and  monuments.  Similar  attributes  were  at  other 
times  expressed  by  a  bird,  using  the  dove  or  sparrow, 
which  will  at  once  make  one  think  of  the  prominence 
given  to  the  dove  in  the  fable  of  Noah  and  the  Ark. 
Referring  again  to  the  fish  symbol  let  me  say  that  the 
head  of  Proserpine  is  very  often  represented  sur¬ 
rounded  by  dolphins;  sometimes  by  pomegranates 
which  also  have  a  phallic  significance.  In  fact,  Inman 
in  his  work  on  Ancient  Faiths  says  of  the  pome¬ 
granate,  “The  shape  of  this  fruit  much  resembles  that 
of  the  gravid  uterus  in  the  female,  and  the  abundance 
of  seeds  which  it  contains  makes  it  a  fitting  emblem 
of  the  prolific  womb  of  the  celestial  mother.  Its  use 
was  largely  adopted  in  various  forms  of  worship;  it 
was  united  with  bells  in  the  adornment  of  the  robes 
of  the  Jewish  High  Priest;  it  was  introduced  as  an 


82  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 


ornament  into  Solomon’s  Temple,  where  it  was  united 
with  lilies  and  with  the  lotus.” 

Its  arcane  meaning  is  undoubtedly  phallic.  In  fact, 
as  Inman  has  stated,  the  idea  of  virility  was  most 
closely  interwoven  with  religion,  though  the  English 
Egyptologists  have  suppressed  a  portion  of  the  facts 
in  the  history  which  they  have  given  the  world;  but 
the  practice  which  still  obtains  among  certain  Ne¬ 
groes  of  Northern  Africa  of  mutilating  every  male 
captive  and  slain  enemy  is  but  a  continuance  of  the 
practice  alluded  to  in  the  2nd  Book  of  Kings,  20:18, 
Isaiah,  39:17,  and  1st  Samuel  18:26. 

Frequently  in  sacred  Scripture  we  find  allusions  to 
the  Pillar  as  a  most  sacred  emblem,  as  for  example 
in  Isaiah  19-19,  “In  that  day  there  shall  be  an  altar 
to  the  Lord  in  the  midst  of  the  land  of  Egypt  and  a 
pillar  to  the  border  thereof  to  Jehovah,”  etc.  More¬ 
over  God  was  supposed  to  have  appeared  to  his  chos¬ 
en  people  as  a  pillar  of  fire.  Nevertheless  when  among 
idolatrous  nations  pillars  were  set  up  as  a  part  of 
their  rites  we  find  them  noticed  in  Scripture  as  an 
abomination,  as  for  example,  Deut.  12:3,  “Ye  shall 
overthrow  their  altars  and  break  their  pillars;”  Levit. 
26:1,  “Neither  rear  ye  up  a  standing  image.” 

Among  the  Jews  the  pillar  had  much  the  same  sig¬ 
nificance  as  the  pyramid  among  the  Egyptians  or  the 
triangle  or  cone  among  votaries  of  other  worships. 
The  Tower  of  Babel  must  have  been  purely  a  myth¬ 
ical  creation  but  in  the  same  direction.  Although 
Abraham  is  regarded  as  having  emigrated  from  Chal- 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  83 

dea  in  the  character  of  a  dissenter  from  the  religion 
of  his  country  (see  Joshua  24:2-3),  his  immediate 
descendants  apparently  had  recourse  to  the  symbols  to 
which  I  have  alluded.  Thus  he  erected  altars  and 
planted  pillars  wherever  he  resided,  and  conducted  his 
son  to  the  land  of  Moriah  to  sacrifice  him  to  the  deity, 
as  was  done  among  the  Phoenicians.  Jeptha  in  like 
manner  sacrificed  his  own  daughter  Mizpeh,  and  the 
temple  of  Solomon  was  supposed  to  have  been  built 
upon  the  site  of  Abraham’s  ancient  altar.  Jacob  not 
only  set  up  a  pillar  at  the  place  which  he  called  Bethel 
but  made  libations;  Samuel  worshipped  at  the  High 
Places  at  Ramah,  and  Solomon  at  the  Great  Stone  in 
Gibeon.  It  remained  for  Hezekiah  to  change  the  en¬ 
tire  Hebrew  cult.  He  removed  the  Dionysiac  statues 
and  phallic  pillars  as  well  as  the  conical  and  omphal- 
lic  symbols  of  Venus  and  Ashtaroth,  broke  in  pieces 
the  brazen  serpent  of  Moses  and  overthrew  the 
mounds  and  altars.  After  him  Josiah  removed  the 
paraphernalia  of  sun  worship  and  destroyed  the 
statues  and  emblems  of  Venus  and  Adonis,  (2nd 
Kings,  23:4-20). 

The  Greek  Hermes  was  identical  with  the  Egyp¬ 
tian  Khem,  as  well  as  with  Mercury  and  with  Priapus, 
also  with  the  Hebrew  Eloah;  thus  when  Jacob  en¬ 
tered  into  a  covenant  with  Laban  his  father-in-law,  a 
pillar  was  set  up  and  a  heap  of  stones  made  and  a 
certain  compact  entered  into ;  similar  land  marks  were 
usual  with  the  Greeks  and  placed  by  them  upon  pub¬ 
lic  roads. 


84  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 


As  Mrs.  Childs  has  beautifully  said,  “Other  em¬ 
blems  deemed  sacred  by  Hindoos  and  worshipped  in 
their  temples  have  brought  upon  them  the  charge  of 
gross  indecencies.  *  *  *  If  light  with  its  grand 

revealings,  and  heat,  making  the  earth  fruitful  with 
beauty,  excited  wonder  and  worship  among  the  first 
inhabitants  of  our  world,  is  it  strange  that  they  like¬ 
wise  regarded  with  reverence  the  great  mystery  of 
human  birth?  Were  they  impure  thus  to  regard  it? 
Or  are  we  impure  that  we  do  not  so  regard  it?” 

Constant,  in  his  work  on  Roman  Polytheism  says, 
“Indecent  rites  may  be  practiced  by  religious  people 
with  the  greatest  purity  of  heart,  but  when  incredulity 
has  gained  a  footing  among  these  peoples  then  those 
rites  become  the  cause  and  pretext  of  the  most  re¬ 
volting  corruption.” 

The  phallic  symbol  was  always  found  in  temples  of 
Siva,  who  corresponds  to  Baal,  and  was  usually  placed 
as  are  the  most  precious  emblems  of  our  Christian 
temples  to-day,  in  some  inmost  recess  of  the  sanctu¬ 
ary.  Moreover  lamps  with  seven  branches  were 
kept  burning  before  it,  these  seven  branched  lamps 
long  antedating  the  golden  candlestick  of  the  Mosaic 
Tabernacle.  The  Jews  by  no  means  escaped  the  ob¬ 
jective  evidence  of  phallic  worship ;  in  Ezekiel  16:17, 
is  a  very  marked  allusion  to  the  manufacture  by  Jew¬ 
ish  women  of  gold  and  silver  phalli. 

As  a  purely  phallic  symbol  and  custom  mark  the 
significance  of  certain  superstitions  and  practices  even 
now  prevalent  in  Great  Britain.  Thus  in  Boylase’s 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  85 


History  of  Cornwall  it  is  stated  that  there  is  a  stone 
in  the  Parish  of  Mardon,  with  a  hole  in  it  fourteen 
inches  in  diameter,  through  which  many  persons  creep 
for  the  relief  of  pains  in  the  back  and  limbs,  and 
through  which  children  are  drawn  to  cure  them  of 
rickets,  this  being  a  practical  application  of  the  doc¬ 
trine  of  regeneration.  In  1888  there  was  printed  in 
the  London  Standard  a  considerable  reference  to  pass¬ 
ing  children  through  clefts  in  trees  as  a  curative  meas¬ 
ure  for  certain  physical  ailments.  The  same  practice 
prevails  in  Brazil  and  in  many  other  places,  and  with¬ 
in  the  present  generation  it  has  been  customary  to  split 
a  young  ash  tree  and,  opening  this,  pass  through  it  a 
child  for  the  purpose  of  curing  rupture  or  some  other 
bodily  ailment. 

The  phallic  element  most  certainly  cannot  be  de¬ 
nied  in  Christianity  itself,  since  in  it  are  many  refer¬ 
ences  which  to  the  initiated  are  unmistakable.  From 
the  fall  of  man  with  its  serpent  myth  and  its  phallic 
foundation  to  the  peculiar  position  assigned  to  the 
Virgin  Mary  as  a  mother,  phallic  references  abound. 
However,  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  whatever 
were  the  primitive  ideas  on  which  these  dogmas  were 
based,  they  had  been  lost  sight  of  or  had  been  re¬ 
ceived  in  a  fresh  aspect  by  the  founders  of  Chris¬ 
tianity.  The  fish  and  the  cross  originally  typified  the 
idea  of  generation  and  later  that  of  life,  in  which 
sense  they  were  applied  to  Christ.  The  most  plainly 
phallic  representation  used  in  early  Christian  Iconog¬ 
raphy,  is  undoubtedly  the  Aureole  or  elliptical  frame 


86  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 


work,  containing  usually  the  figure  of  Christ,  some¬ 
times  that  of  Mary.  The  Nimbus  also,  generally  cir¬ 
cular  but  sometimes  triangular,  is  of  positive  phallic 
significance,  even  though  it  contain  within  it  the 
name  of  Jehovah.  The  sun  flowers  which  sometimes 
are  made  to  surround  the  figure  of  St.  John  the  Evan¬ 
gelist  are  the  lotus  flowers  of  the  Egyptians.  The  di¬ 
vine  hand  with  the  thumb  and  two  fingers  out¬ 
stretched,  even  though  it  rests  on  a  cruciform  nim¬ 
bus,  is  a  phallic  emblem,  and  is  used  by  the  Neapoli¬ 
tans  of  to-day  to  avert  the  Evil  Eye,  although  it  was 
originally  a  symbol  of  Isis.  Indeed  the  Virgin  Mary 
is  the  ancient  Isis,  as  can  be  most  easily  established, 
since  the  virgin  “Succeeded  to  her  form,  titles,  sym¬ 
bols,  rites  and  ceremonies.”  (King).  The  great 
image  still  moves  in  procession  as  when  Juvenal 
laughed  at  it,  and  her  proper  title  is  the  exact  trans¬ 
lation  of  the  Sanskrit  and  the  equivalent  of  the  mod¬ 
ern  Madonna,  the  Lotus  of  Isis,  and  the  Lily  of  the 
modern  Mary.  Indeed,  as  King  has  written,  “It  is 
astonishing  how  much  of  the  Egyptian  symbolism 
passed  over  into  usages  of  the  following  times.”  The 
high  cap  and  hooked  staff  of  the  god  became  the  bish¬ 
op’s  mitre  and  crozier.  The  term  Nun  is  purely 
Egyptian  and  bore  its  present  meaning.  The  Crux 
Ansata,  testifying  the  union  of  the  male  and  fe¬ 
male  principle  in  the  most  obvious  manner,  and  de¬ 
noting  fecundity  and  abundance,  is  transformed  by  a 
simple  inversion  into  an  orb  surmounted  by  a  cross, 
the  ensign  of  royalty. 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  87 

The  teaching  of  the  Church  of  Rome  regarding  the 
Virgin  Mary  shows  a  remarkable  resemblance  to  the 
teachings  of  the  ancients  concerning  the  female  as¬ 
sociate  of  the  triune  deity.  In  ancient  times  she  has 
passed  under  many  and  diverse  names;  she  was  the 
Virgin,  conceiving  and  bringing  forth  from  her  own 
inherent  power;  she  was  the  wife  of  Nimrod;  she 
has  been  known  as  Athor,  Artemis,  Aphrodite,  Venus, 
Isis,  Cybele,  etc. 

As  Anaitis  she  is  Mother  and  Child,  appearing 
again  as  Isis  and  Horus;  even  in  ancient  Mexico 
Mother  and  Child  were  worshipped.  In  modern  times 
she  reappears  as  the  Virgin  Mary  and  her  Son;  she 
was  queen  of  fecundity,  queen  of  the  gods,  goddess 
of  war,  Virgin  of  the  Zodiac,  the  mysterious  Virgin 
“Time”  from  whose  womb  all  things  were  born.  Al¬ 
though  variously  represented  she  has  been  usually  pic¬ 
tured  as  a  more  or  less  nude  figure  carrying  an  infant 
in  her  arms.  (Inman,  “Ancient  Faiths”). 

Inman  declares  without  hesitation  that  the  trinity 
of  the  ancients  is  unquestionably  of  phallic  origin, 
and  others  have  strenuously  contended  and  apparently 
proven  that  the  male  emblem  of  generation  in  divine 
creation  was  three  in  one,  and  that  the  female  em¬ 
blem  has  always  been  the  triangle  or  accepted  symbol 
of  trinity.  Sometimes  two  triangles  have  been  com¬ 
bined  forming  a  six-rayed  star,  the  two  together  being 
emblematical  of  the  union  of  the  male  and  female 
principles  producing  a  new  figure ;  the  triangle  by  it¬ 
self  with  the  point  down  typifies  the  delta  or  yoni 


88  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 


through  which  all  things  come  into  the  world. 

Another  symbol  of  deity  among  the  Indians  was 
the  Trident,  and  this  marks  the  belief  in  the  Trinity 
which  very  generally  prevailed  in  India  among  the 
Hindoos.  As  Maurice  says,  “It  was  indeed  highly 
proper  and  strictly  characteristic  that  a  three-fold 
deity  should  wield  a  triple  scepter.”  Upon  the  top  of 
the  immense  pyramids  of  Deoghur,  which  were  trun¬ 
cated,  and  upon  whose  upper  surface  rested  the  circu¬ 
lar  cone — that  ancient  emblem  of  the  Phallus  and  of 
the  Sun,  was  found  the  trident  scepter  of  the  Greek 
Neptune.  It  is  said  that  in  India  is  to  be  found  the 
most  ancient  form  of  Trinitarian  worship.  In  Egypt 
it  later  prevailed  widely,  but  scarcely  any  two  states 
worshipped  the  same  triad,  though  all  triads  had  this 
in  common  at  least  that  they  were  father,  mother 
and  son,  or  male  and  female  with  their  progeny.  In 
the  course  of  time,  however,  the  worship  of  the  first 
person  was  lost  or  absorbed  in  the  second  and  the 
same  thing  is  prevalent  among  the  Christians  of  to¬ 
day,  for  many  churches  and  institutions  are  dedicated 
to  the  second  or  third  persons  of  the  Trinity  but  none 
to  the  first. 

The  transition  from  the  old  to  the  new  could  not 
be  effected  in  a  short  time  and  must  have  been  an  ex¬ 
ceedingly  slow  process,  therefore  we  need  not  be  sur¬ 
prised  to  be  told  of  the  ancient  worship  that  after  its 
exclusion  from  larger  places  it  was  maintained  for  a 
long  time  by  the  inhabitants  of  humbler  localities; 
hence  its  subsequent  designation,  since  from  being 


IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  89 


kept  up  in  the  villages,  the  pagi,  its  votaries,  were 
designated  pagani ,  or  pagans. 

Even  now  some  of  these  ancient  superstitions  re¬ 
main  in  recognizable  form.  The  moon  is  supposed 
to  exert  a  baneful  or  lucky  influence  according  as  it  is 
first  viewed ;  the  mystic  horse-shoe,  which  is  a  purely 
uterine  symbol,  is  still  widely  employed;  lucky  and 
unlucky  days  are  still  regarded;  our  playing  cards 
are  indicated  by  phallic  symbols,  the  spade,  the  tria¬ 
dic  club,  the  omphallic  distaff  and  eminence  disguised 
as  the  heart  and  the  diamonds.  Dionysius  reappears 
as  St.  Denys,  or  in  France  as  St.  Bacchus;  Satan  is 
revered  as  St.  Satur  or  St.  Swithin;  the  Holy  Virgin, 
Astraea,  whose  return  was  heralded  by  Virgil  as  in¬ 
troducing  the  Golden  Age,  is  now  designated  as  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  Queen  of  Heaven.  The  Mother  and 
Child  are  to-day  in  Catholic  countries  adored  as  much 
as  were  Ceres  and  Bacchus,  or  Isis  and  the  infant 
Horus,  centuries  ago.  The  nuns  of  Christian  to-day 
are  the  nuns  of  the  Buddhists  or  of  the  Egyptian 
worshippers  of  Isis,  and  the  phallic  import  is  not 
lost  even  in  their  case  since  they  are  the  “Brides  of 
the  Savior.”  The  libations  of  human  blood  which 
were  formerly  offered  to  Bacchus  found  most  tragic 
imitation  in  the  sacrifices  of  later  days.  The  screech- 
ings  of  the  ancient  prophets  of  Baal,  and  of  the  Egyp¬ 
tian  worshippers,  preceded  the  flagellations  of  the 
penitentes.  Even  recently,  during  Holy  Week  in 
Rome,  devotees  lash  themselves  until  the  blood  runs, 
as  did  the  young  men  in  ancient  Rome  during  the 


9o  IATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM 

Lupercalia.  And  even  yet  in  New  Mexico  the  Indian 
penitentes  repeat  the  cruel  flagellations  and  cross¬ 
bearing  taught  by  the  Spanish  priest,  to  the  extent — 
sometimes — of  an  actual  crucifixion.  In  the  ancient 
Roman  catacombs  are  found  portraits  of  the  utensils 
and  furniture  of  the  ancient  mysteries,  and  one  draw¬ 
ing  shows  a  woman  standing  before  an  altar  offering 
buns  to  a  certain  god.  In  fact  we  may  say  there  is  no 
Christian  fast  nor  festival,  procession  nor  sacrament, 
custom  nor  example,  that  do  not  come  quite  naturally 
from  previous  paganism. 

The  Creation  is  in  fact  a  human  rather  than  a  di¬ 
vine  product t  in  this  sense  that  it  was  suggested  to  the 
mind  of  man  by  the  existence  of  things,  while  its 
method  was,  at  least  at  first,  suggested  by  the  opera¬ 
tions  of  nature ;  thus  man  saw  the  living  bird  emerge 
from  the  egg,  after  a  certain  period  of  incubation,  a 
phenomenon  equivalent  to  actual  creation  as  appre¬ 
hended  by  his  simple  mind.  Incubation  obviously 
then  associated  itself  with  Creation,  and  this  fact 
will  explain  the  universality  with  which  the  egg  was 
received  as  a  symbol  in  the  earlier  systems  of  cosmog¬ 
ony.  By  a  similar  process  creation  came  to  be  sym¬ 
bolized  in  the  form  of  a  phallus,  and  so  the  Egyp¬ 
tians,  in  their  refinement  of  these  ideas,  adopted  as 
their  symbol  of  the  first  great  cause,  a  Scarabaeus,  in¬ 
dicating  the  great  hermaphroditic  unity  since  they 
believed  this  insect  to  be  both  male  and  female. 

Further  exemplification  of  the  same  underlying 
principle  is  seen  in  the  fact  that  most  all  of  the  ancient 


I ATRO-THEURGIC  SYMBOLISM  9 1 


deities  were  paired,  thus  we  have  heaven  and  earth, 
sun  and  moon,  fire  and  earth,  father  and  mother,  etc. 
Faber  says, —  “The  Ancient  Pagans  of  almost  every 
part  of  the  globe  were  wont  to  symbolize  the  world 
by  an  egg;  hence  this  symbol  is  introduced  into  the 
cosmogonies  of  nearly  all  nations,  and  there  are  few 
persons  even  among  those  who  have  made  mythology 
their  study  to  whom  the  mundane  egg  is  not  perfectly 
familiar;  it  is  the  emblem  not  only  of  earth  and  life 
but  also  of  the  universe  in  its  largest  extent.” 

I  began  this  essay  with  the  intention  of  demonstrat¬ 
ing  the  recondite  but  positive  connection  between  the 
symbolism  of  the  Church  of  to-day  and  the  phallic 
and  iatric  cults  of  pre-christian  centuries.  (Much  of 
the  subject  matter  contained  in  the  previous  essay 
(III)  may  be  profitably  read  in  this  connection) .  As 
a  humble  disciple  of  that  Aesculapius  who  was  the  re¬ 
puted  founder  of  our  craft,  I  have  felt  that  every  gen¬ 
uine  scholar  in  medicine  should  be  familiar  with  these 
relations  between  the  past  and  the  present. 


V 


THE  RELATION  OF  THE  GRECIAN  MYS¬ 
TERIES  TO  THE  FOUNDATION  OF 
CHRISTIANITY 

EVER  since  mentality  has  been  an  attribute 
of  mankind,  man  has  appreciated  that  he 
is  surrounded  by  a  vast  incomprehensible 
mystery  which  ever  closes  in  upon  him,  and 
from  whose  environment  he  may  never  free  himself. 
The  endeavor  to  solve  this  mystery  has  on  one  hand 
stimulated  his  reasoning  power,  and  on  the  other 
nearly  paralyzed  it.  Having  no  better  guidance 
he  has  in  all  time  attributed  to  a  Great  First  Cause 
powers  and  faculties,  even  shape  and  form,  more  or 
less  human;  thus  from  time  immemorial  God  or  the 
Gods  have  been  given  a  kingdom,  a  throne,  some  def¬ 
inite  form,  and  even  offspring.  To  him  or  them  have 
been  given  purely  human  attributes,  and  they  have 
been  supposed  to  possess  human  passions  and  to  be 
capable  of  love,  wrath,  strength,  etc.  In  nearly  all 
ages  lightning,  for  instance,  has  been  regarded  as  an 
expression  of  divine  fury.  As  intelligence  advanced 
the  number  of  Gods  was  reduced  and  their  manifes¬ 
tations  classified  and  studied  more  or  less  imagina¬ 
tively;  and  so  while  men  have  always  acknowledged 
the  impossibility  of  explaining  the  great  mysteries  of 
creation  and  of  space,  they  have  seemed  to  find  it 

92 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  93 


necessary  to  create  other  equally  inscrutable  mysteries 
of  purely  human  invention,  such  as  the  incarnation, 
the  trinity,  the  resurrection,  vicarious  salvation, 
metempsychosis,  and  the  like. 

History  shows  the  love  of  mystery  to  be  contagious 
as  well  as  productive  of  its  kind,  and  the  origin  of 
mystic  teachings  as  well  as  of  most  secret  societies 
bears  out  these  statements.  Secrets,  guarded  by  fear¬ 
ful  oaths,  personified  by  meaningless  emblems,  con¬ 
cealed  either  in  language  unintelligible  to  others,  or 
else  hidden  in  terms  whose  special  meaning  is  known 
only  to  the  initiated,  made  attractive  by  special  signs, 
symbols,  innocent  rites,  or  barbarous  observances, — 
all  of  these  means  were  designed  solely  to  keep  men 
banded  together  for  the  purpose  of  forming  a  propa¬ 
ganda  intended  to  perpetuate  yet  other  mysteries  in 
which  the  initiates  were  especially  interested.  Since 
history  began  such  associations  of  men  have  existed 
for  most  diverse  ends,  all  having  this  in  common,  that 
only  by  this  means  could  they  secure  and  maintain 
influence  and  power. 

And  so  the  series  of  pictures  which  represent  man 
in  this  role  may  be  regarded  as  a  panorama,  led  by 
garlanded  priests  carrying  images  of  Isis  or  droning 
hymns  to  Demeter  of  Eleusis,  or  Druids  preparing 
for  their  human  sacrifices;  followed  by  gay  and  volup¬ 
tuous  Bacchantes,  succeeded  by  white-robed  Pythago¬ 
reans;  next  may  come  the  suffering  Essenes  bear¬ 
ing  crosses,  then  the  Latin  Brotherhoods,  followed  by 
the  German  and  English  Guilds,  the  Stone  Masons 


94  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


with  their  implements,  the  Crusader  Knights,  those 
coming  first  having  an  appearance  of  actual  humility 
and  devotion,  while  those  who  follow  are  haughty 
and  contemptuous  to  a  degree.  Then  would  follow 
the  black-robed  Penitentes  and  the  members  of  the  So¬ 
ciety  of  Jesus,  sanctimonious,  with  eyes  cast  down,  hu¬ 
man  machines,  mere  tools  in  the  hands  of  their  su¬ 
periors;  the  panorama  continuing  with  a  widely  as¬ 
sorted  lot  of  scholars,  artisans  and  men  of  all  condi¬ 
tions  in  various  regalia,  and  terminated  with  an  in¬ 
distinguishable  multitude  of  variously  adorned  men, 
some  sleek  and  fat,  others  ill-conditioned,  some  de¬ 
vout  and  sincere,  others  mere  jesters  and  knaves  from 
every  walk  of  life. 

It  was  most  natural  and  to  be  expected  that  primi¬ 
tive  man  should  be  most  profoundly  impressed  with 
the  forces  of  nature,  often  terrifying  and  frightful, 
often  winsome  and  attractive,  and  that  he  should  bow 
himself  down  to  the  unknown  cause  of  these  manifes¬ 
tations.  With  his  extremely  finite  mind  he  necessarily 
personified  them;  after  having  done  this  he  pro¬ 
ceeded  to  propitiate  them  by  worship  with  certain 
forms  of  ritual.  Perhaps  fire  first  and  most  of  all 
attracted  him  in  this  way,  and  drew  from  him  the 
earliest  acts  of  worship,  for  in  spite  of  the  general 
views  to  the  contrary  fire  is  often  of  natural  origin, 
and  must  have  been  known  to  men  before  they  be¬ 
came  able  to  produce  it  by  their  own  efforts.  From 
practical  to  generalized  concepts  was  a  natural  step, 
and  thus  mythology  had  its  beginnings;  the  earliest 


FOUNDATION  Ob  CHRISTIANITY  95 


distinctions  were  as  between  that  which  is  overhead, 
i.  e.  Heaven,  and  that  which  is  beneath,  namely,  the 
earth;  these  are  the  beginnings  of  all  cosmogonies. 
Next  the  Gods  were  given  the  attributes  of  sex;  Heav¬ 
en  was  represented  as  masculine,  fructifying, powerful; 
Earth  as  conceptive,  female  and  gentle.  By  the  union 
of  these  two  were  produced  sun,  moon  and  their 
progeny — the  stars.  Later  the  sun  became  Poseidon 
or  Neptune,  because  he  appeared  from  and  disap¬ 
peared  into  the  sea.  Then  the  imagination  began  to 
run  riot,  and  gave  rise  to  many  individual  divinities, 
gods  and  goddesses,  all  with  human  passions  and 
attributes,  mingling  and  propagating  after  human 
fashion,  and  begetting  dynasties  and  half  human 
races,  whose  doings  were  the  subject  of  countless  epics, 
dramas,  myths  and  romances. 

Thus  time  passed  on  and  the  original  sense  or  mean¬ 
ing  of  these  myths,  descending  slowly  by  oral  tradi¬ 
tion,  became  lost,  while  the  myths  themselves  were 
for  a  long  time  accepted  as  historical  facts.  Never¬ 
theless  in  all  ages  there  have  been  men  who,  like  Aris¬ 
totle,  Cicero  and  Plutarch,  have  questioned  the  ac¬ 
curacy  of  these  statements  and  shown  themselves  in¬ 
telligent  and  active  sceptics.  During  all  these  times, 
however,  a  wily  priest-craft  had  lived  and  thrived  on 
the  superstitions  of  the  common  people  and  the  prac¬ 
tices  in  which  they  have  indulged;  by  these  men,  thus 
conditioned,  any  active  doubt  was  regarded  as  subser- 
sive  of  the  system  by  which  they  were  supported,  and 
as  one  not  to  be  tolerated ;— this  condition  pertaining 


96  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 

not  only  to  antiquity,  since  it  is  too  significant  a  fea¬ 
ture  even  of  the  early  years  of  this  twentieth  century. 
A  more  or  less  honest  though  misinformed  priesthood 
has,  in  all  times,  been  in  favor  of  the  purification  of 
the  theology  in  vogue  in  their  times  and  among  their 
inner  circles,  and  has  in  the  main  given  the  most 
rationalistic  interpretation  to  the  obscure  things  which 
they  taught,  and  practised  what  their  education  and 
environment  would  permit.  But  in  order  to  preserve 
the  mysteries,  to  maintain  them  as  such,  and  save 
themselves  from  becoming  superfluous,  not  to  say  in¬ 
tolerable,  these  same  mysteries  have  been  tricked  out 
with  mysticism,  symbolism  of  the  most  fantastic  char¬ 
acter,  and  allegory  of  the  most  bewildering  kind; 
moreover  this  has  often  been  accomplished  by  dra¬ 
matic  representations  and  by  moralizing  or  demoraliz¬ 
ing  ceremonies.  The  countries  in  which  these  “mys¬ 
teries,”  as  they  have  since  been  known,  were  most 
commonly  practised  and  most  widely  believed  were 
Egypt,  Chaldea  and  Greece. 

The  sources  of  the  Egyptian  mysteries,  like  those 
of  Egyptian  civilization,  are  the  most  difficult  to  dis¬ 
cover.  The  Nile  is  necessarily  the  basis  of  Egyptian 
history,  geography,  activity  and  habits,  and  conse¬ 
quently  must  be  also  of  the  Egyptian  cult.  The  peo¬ 
ple  who  were  known  as  Egyptians  invaded  the  land  of 
the  Nile  from  the  direction  of  Asia,  and  found  there 
a  race  of  negro  type  whom  they  subdued  and  with 
whom  they  later  mingled.  The  Semites  called  the 
land  Misraim;  the  Greeks  finally  changed  the  name 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  97 

of  its  great  river  to  Neilos.  The  country  is  a  land 
of  enigmas.  Who  built  those  pyramids,  and  why? 
Who  originated  the  system  of  pictorial  writing  which 
we  call  the  hieroglyphic?  Who  planned  those  won¬ 
derful  temples  now  either  in  ruins,  as  in  upper  Egypt, 
or  buried  beneath  the  desert  sands,  as  in  lower  Egypt? 
Who  brought  and  erected  those  mighty  blocks  of 
stone  or  massive  slabs  from  enormous  distances,  and 
handled  them  as  we  could  scarcely  do  to-day  with  the 
best  of  modern  machinery? 

In  course  of  time  two  hereditary  classes  were 
formed,  the  priests  who  dominated  the  minds,  and  the 
warriors  who  controlled  the  bodies  of  the  conquered 
people  and  the  lower  classes.  The  latter  kept  the 
throne  of  Egypt  occupied,  while  the  former,  having 
a  monopoly  of  the  knowledge  of  the  time,  prescribed 
for  the  people  what  they  must  believe,  yet  were  very 
far  from  accepting  these  precepts  for  themselves,  and 
in  their  inner  circles  made  light  of  that  which  they 
preached  to  the  despised  classes  without. 

The  Egyptians  named  their  Sun  God  RE,  but  as¬ 
signed  the  various  attributes  of  the  sun  to  different 
personalities;  they  had  moreover  not  only  Gods  for 
the  whole  land,  but  Ptah  was  God  of  Memphis,  Am¬ 
mon  God  of  Thebes,  etc.  Local  deities  were  often 
constructed  out  of  inspiring  objects  or  from  animals 
inhabited  by  spirits,  and  thus  the  fetichism  of  the 
original  negro  race  exerted  no  little  influence  upon  the 
higher  cult  of  their  lighter  colored  conquerors.  Wor¬ 
ship  was  paid  to  animals  not  for  their  own  sake  but 


98  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 

because  of  the  Gods  who  were  supposed  to  reside 
within  them;  thus  their  prominent  Gods  were  rep¬ 
resented  with  the  head  of  some  animal.  This  honor 
belonged  not  to  any  individual  animal  but  of  neces¬ 
sity  to  the  entire  species,  certain  representatives  of 
which  were  maintained  at  public  expense  in  the  tem¬ 
ples,  where  they  were  carefully  guarded  and  waited 
upon  by  the  faithful.  To  harm  one  of  these  animals 
was  to  be  severely  punished,  to  kill  one  of  them  was 
to  die.  Conversely  when  a  God  failed  in  responding 
to  the  prayers  of  the  faithful  his  fetich  had  to  suf¬ 
fer,  and  the  priests  first  threatened  the  animal,  and  if 
menaces  were  unavailing  they  killed  the  sacred  beast, 
albeit  in  secret,  lest  the  people  should  learn  of  it. 

As  time  went  on  there  was  less  of  zoolatry,  and 
the  Sun-Gods  and  their  associates  figured  more  large¬ 
ly  among  the  cult  of  the  people.  The  sun’s  course 
was  not  represented  as  that  of  a  chariot,  as  among 
the  Persians  and  Greeks,  but  rather  as  the  voyage  of 
a  Nile  boat,  upon  which  the  God  Re  navigated  the 
heavens;  from  which  it  will  appear  that  the  priestly 
religion  was  making  slow  progress  to  monotheism  by 
means  of  oligotheism.  The  secret  teaching  of  the 
priests  was  now  more  and  more  to  the  effect  that  the 
Gods  stood  not  so  much  for  themselves  as  for  some¬ 
thing  else.  During  the  fourth  dynasty  the  lower 
Egyptian  city  Anu  was  known  as  the  City  of  the  Sun, 
hence  the  Greek  name  for  the  place,  Heliopolis.  Still 
more  characteristic  was  the  giving  of  the  name  of 
Osiris,  who  figured  as  God  of  Abdu,  which  the  Greeks 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  99 

called  Abydos,  in  upper  Egypt,  to  the  God  of  the 
Sunset,  who  was  king  of  the  lower  domains  and  of 
death,  brother  and  at  the  same  time  husband  of  Isis, 
brother  also  of  Set,  who  slew  him,  and  father  of 
Horus,  i.  e.  God  of  the  new  sun,  who  figures  after 
.  each  sunset.  Horus  fought  with  Set,  but  being  unable 
to  completely  destroy  him  left  him  the  desert  as  his 
kingdom,  while  himself  holding  to  the  Nile  valley. 
This  story  of  the  Gods  was  publicly  represented  in 
various  scenes  on  certain  holidays,  but  only  the  priests, 
i.  e.,  the  initiated,  knew  the  real  meaning  of  the 
representations.  Even  the  name  of  Osiris  and  his 
abode  were  kept  secret,  and  outsiders  heard  only  of 
the  “great  God”  dwelling  somewhere  in  “the  West.” 

These  were  the  most  famous  of  all  the  old  Egyp¬ 
tian  mysteries,  though  to  them  were  added  many  oth¬ 
ers,  including  that  of  Apis,  the  sacred  bull  of  Mem¬ 
phis,  who  served  also  as  the  symbol  of  the  Sun  and 
of  the  fructifying  Nile;  beneath  his  tongue  was  to 
be  seen  the  sacred  beetle,  and  the  behavior  of  the  great 
animal  was  supposed  to  be  prophetic  and  his  actions 
to  mean  oracular  sayings.  The  Sphinx  again  was  a 
sun-God,  his  image  being  repeated  throughout  the 
Nile  region,  and  was  always  thought  of  as  a  male; 
the  head  was  represented  as  that  of  some  king,  while 
the  whole  figure  stood  for  the  Sun-God  Harmachis; 
although  the  sphinx  later  introduced  into  Greece  was 
always  female. 

While  the  Egyptians  did  not  attribute  to  their  nu¬ 
merous  Gods  divine  perfection,  they  nevertheless  re- 


100  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


garded  religious  practices  as  a  means  of  currying  fa¬ 
vor  with  their  divinities,  a  custom  apparently  still  in 
favor.  The  priests  believed  in  a  Sun-God  as  the  only 
true  deity,  but  not  so  the  people;  thus  the  priests  in 
the  various  cities  praised  their  local  and  tutelary  God 
as  supreme  and  made  him  identical  with  Re,  whose 
name  they  appended  to  the  original,  as  for  instance 
Amon-Re.  The  king,  no  matter  where  he  was,  prayed 
always  to  the  local  deity  as  lord  of  heaven  and  earth, 
yet  in  words  always  the  same. 

At  last  during  the  eighteenth  dynasty,  about  1460 
B.  C.,  Amenhotep  IV  realized  that  the  power  of  the 
priesthood  was  a  menace  to  the  crown  and  therefore 
proclaimed  the  Sun  as  the  sole  God,  not  in  human 
shape,  but  in  that  of  a  disk.  He  ordered  all  other 
images  of  other  Gods  associated  with  the  sun  to  be 
destroyed;  the  priests  of  these  deposed  Gods  lost 
their  places  and  estates,  which  latter  were  confiscat¬ 
ed.  But  his  sons-in-law  who  succeeded  him  restored 
the  deposed  monarchs.  Nevertheless  they  were 
marked  as  heretics  by  those  priests  who  were  rein¬ 
stated  in  their  former  power.  In  consequence  of  this 
conflict,  which  was  violent  and  prolonged,  the  intel¬ 
lectual  life  of  Egypt  was  paralyzed  and  the  mystic 
teachings  of  the  priests  were  henceforth  not  disturbed 
by  any  wave  of  progress  or  advance. 

The  people  again  sank  into  a  stupid  and  unredeem¬ 
able  formalism,  demonism  and  sorcery.  With  the 
purpose  of  amusing  them  the  priests  furnished  gorge¬ 
ous  sacrificial  processions  and  festivals,  while  at  the 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  ioi 


same  time  drawing  them  away  from  the  true  God  by 
teaching  them  a  worship  of  deceased  kings  and 
queens.  They  also  built  temples,  to  only  the  outer 
portion  of  which  were  the  people  generally  admitted, 
while  the  innermost  portions  were  guarded  by  these 
priests  lest  the  mysteries  thus  protected  be  such  no 
longer.  They  also  procured  the  building  of  the  an¬ 
cient  Labyrinth,  near  Lake  Moeris,  of  which  Herod¬ 
otus  tells  us  that  there  were  fifteen  hundred  cham¬ 
bers  above  ground  and  as  many  more  under 
ground,  which  latter  were  never  shown  except  to  the 
initiated,  and  which  contained  the  remains  of  sacred 
crocodiles  and  of  the  Pharaohs. 

The  Egyptian  priests  taught  that  man  was  made 
up  of  body,  a  material  essence  or  the  soul,  which  in  the 
shape  of  a  bird  left  the  body  at  death,  and  an  im¬ 
material  spirit  which  held  to  the  man  the  same  rela¬ 
tion  which  a  God  held  to  the  animal  in  which  he 
dwelt,  and  which  at  death  departed  from  the  body 
like  the  image  of  a  dream.  They  taught  also  that, 
if  the  soul  and  spirit  were  to  live  on,  the  body  should 
be  embalmed  and  laid  in  a  rock  chamber,  and  that 
then  the  relatives  must  supply  meat,  drink,  and  cloth¬ 
ing  for  its  use.  The  spirit  took  its  way  to  Osiris  and 
by  means  of  a  magic  formula  the  dead  would  be  made 
one  with  Osiris;  hence  in  the  Egyptian  “Book  of  the 
Dead”  the  deceased  was  addressed  as  Osiris  with  his 
own  name  added,  and  could  now  lead  a  happy  life  in 
the  other  world,  which  life  was  portrayed  on  the  walls 
of  the  Sepulchres  in  pictures  which  are  still  to  be 


102  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


seen,  showing  how  the  creature  comforts  of  this  world 
were  to  be  enhanced  in  the  next.  Having  reached  the 
outer  world,  and  having  escaped  the  host  of  demons 
that  threatened  him  on  his  passage,  he  could  then  re¬ 
visit  this  earth  at  will  in  any  form. 

The  Egyptian  priests  also  taught  that  there  was  a 
judgment  of  the  dead,  and  that  new  comers  had  to 
appear  before  Osiris,  with  his  forty-two  Assessors, 
and  disclaim  the  commission  of  each  one  of  forty-two 
sins;  all  of  whch  was  a  magic  formula  for  obtaining 
bliss  according  to  their  notion  rather  than  anything 
intended  as  a  true  statement.  The  hippopotamus  fig¬ 
ured  as  an  active  agent  in  the  Book  of  the  Dead,  ap¬ 
pearing  always  as  the  accuser,  when  the  sins  and  the 
good  deeds  were  being  weighed  in  the  balance,  while 
the  God  Thot  was  the  “attorney  for  the  defense.” 

All  these  secret  doctrines  of  a  priestcraft  necessi¬ 
tated  secret  associations,  at  least  of  the  higher  priests, 
to  which  the  king  was  always  admitted,  the  only 
Egyptian  outside  of  the  priesthood  to  be  thus  taught 
their  secrets.  This  was  purely  for  protection;  hav¬ 
ing  less  fear  of  foreigners  these  priests  often  initiated 
distinguished  men  from  foreign  lands,  Greeks  espe¬ 
cially.  Thus  Orpheus,  Homer,  Lycurgus,  Solon, 
Herodotus,  Pythagoras,  Plato,  Archimedes,  and  many 
others,  received  the  secret  doctrine.  The  ritual  was 
a  long  and  tedious  but  significant  ceremony,  taught  by 
degrees  like  the  Masonry  of  to-day,  and  necessitated 
in  some  cases  the  right  of  circumcision;  all  who  passed 
it  were  pledged  to  the  most  strict  silence.  Accord- 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  103 


ing  to  Diodorus  the  Orphic  Mysteries  were  in  large 
degree  a  repetition  of  the  Egyptian,  while  the  Greek 
legislators,  philosophers  and  mathematicians  whom 
I  have  named  drew  their  knowledge  from  the  same 
source;  all  of  which  is  probably  a  very  gross  exag¬ 
geration.  Nevertheless  it  would  appear  from  the 
hieroglyphic  remains  that  high  grade  schools  were 
conducted  by  the  Egyptian  priests,  and  that  foreign 
scholars  could  obtain  for  themselves  instruction  in  the 
exact  sciences  of  the  day.  Only  the  priests,  how¬ 
ever,  were  able  to  write  the  hieroglyphics,  at  least  in 
the  earlier  centuries  of  Egyptian  history. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  secret  doctrine 
of  the  Egyptian  priests  was  both  philosophic  and 
religious,  and  was  sharply  distinguished  from  the  pop¬ 
ular  belief  which  mistook  tradition  for  truth;  that  it 
was  monotheistic,  that  it  rejected  polytheism  and 
zoolatry,  and  that  the  true  signification  of  Egyptian 
mythology  was  expounded  in  private.  Moreover  an 
essential  part  of  this  mystery  concerned  the  interpre¬ 
tation  of  myths  as  allegorical  accounts  of  personified 
natural  phenomena.  For  instance  Plutarch  (“Isis 
and  Osiris”)  writes — “When  we  hear  of  the  Egyp¬ 
tian  myths  of  the  Gods,  their  wanderings,  their  dis¬ 
memberment  and  other  like  incidents,  we  must  recall 
the  remarks  already  made,  so  as  to  understand  that 
the  stories  told  are  not  to  be  taken  literally  as  re¬ 
counting  actual  occurences.” 

Without  now  going  into  the  subject  of  the  relative 
age  of  the  Egyptian  and  Chaldean  cults,  I  will  re- 


io4  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


mind  you  that  the  secret  wisdom  of  one  race  was  not 
excelled  by  that  of  the  other.  The  Chaldean  races 
are  undoubtedly  of  Turanian  origin,  and  their  form 
of  religion  was  peculiar  to  the  Ural-Altaic  stock  and 
the  Turkic  races,  who  originated  the  Cuneiform  writ¬ 
ing.  Their  most  ancient  writings  represented  evil 
spirits  as  coming  from  the  desert  in  groups  of  seven, 
and  contained  formulas  for  exorcising  them;  they 
were  presided  over  by  the  heavens,  while  from  the 
higher  spirits  evolved  Gods  and  Goddesses  in  count¬ 
less  number.  Upon  the  original  ground  work  of 
Chaldean  ideas  a  Semitic  race  built  a  superstructure, 
and  the  first  traces  of  the  Babylonians  and  Assyrians 
appeared  some  four  thousand  years  B.  C.  Their 
highest  God  was  an  individual  whom  they  named 
Baal,  while  the  sun  and  moon  were  his  images.  As 
in  Egypt  the  priests  were  held  in  great  reverence, 
standing  next  after  the  king,  who  was  ex  officio  high 
priest;  they  too  had  a  secret  doctrine  withheld  from 
the  vulgar.  Although  the  Chaldeans  were  astrolo¬ 
gers  rather  than  astronomers,  they  were  yet  familiar 
enough  with  the  heavens  to  estimate  astral  phenom¬ 
ena  for  what  they  really  were,  instead  of  holding 
them  to  be  Gods,  though  they  may  have  represented 
them  as  such  to  the  common  people.  Their  literature 
contained  numerous  mythological  poems,  so  obscure 
that  to  understand  them  a  key  was  required,  which 
key  was  only  in  the  possession  of  the  priests.  Inas¬ 
much  as  Abraham  came  from  Ur  in  Chaldea,  with 
him  crept  into  biblical  literature  much  of  the  Chal- 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  105 

dean  tradition  and  folklore.  The  Chaldeans  had  al¬ 
so  their  Noah,  and  their  deluge,  in  which  the  dove 
figured  as  in  the  biblical  account.  When  the  pro¬ 
prietor  of  the  Ark  finally  freed  the  animals  he  erected 
an  altar  and  offered  sacrifice,  to  which  the  Gods  gath¬ 
ered  “like  masses  of  flies.”  This  story  contributes 
but  one  section  of  the  great  Chaldean  epic  in  which 
are  recounted  the  exploits  of  a  hero  corresponding 
with  the  Nimrod  of  the  Hebrew  Bible,  dating  from 
the  twenty-third  century  B.  C.,  and  reminding  one 
forcibly  of  the  Herculean  and  many  other  myths  re¬ 
counted  in  other  ancient  languages. 

An  off-shoot  of  the  Chaldean  culture  was  that  of 
Persia,  whose  priestly  class  were  far  removed  above 
the  warriors  and  farmers  that  constituted  the  other 
two  classes.  Priests*  married  only  among  their  own 
race,  possessed  all  the  knowledge,  made  their  king 
ex  officio  one  of  themselves,  and  practised  itinerant 
teaching,  but  solely  among  their  own  caste.  In  the 
holy  city,  Ragha,  the  priests  alone  held  rule  and  no 
secular  power  prevailed;  Zoroaster  was  their  found¬ 
er;  they  were  the  physicians,  astrologers,  interpreters 
of  dreams,  scribes  and  officers  of  justice,  while  they 
impressed  upon  the  minds  of  the  people  their  exclu¬ 
sive  duties; — to  reverence  the  holy  fire,  which  was 
their  greatest  mystery,  to  listen  to  the  teaching  of 
passages  from  the  sacred  book,  and  to  perform  nu¬ 
merous  ceremonies  of  purification.  Only  the  initiated 
were  taught  the  meaning  of  the  strife  between  the 
good  Ormuzd  and  the  evil  Ahriman,  which  was  prob- 


io 6  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


ably  the  alternation  of  day  and  night,  and  of  summer 
and  winter. 

In  India  the  intense  feeling  with  regard  to  caste 
but  little  altered  the  condition  of  things  from  that  ob¬ 
taining  as  above  described,  though  the  Brahmins 
were  further  away  from  the  other  castes  than  in  other 
countries  where  the  priests  came  from  the  common 
people;  by  the  latter  the  Brahmins  used  to  be  regard¬ 
ed  as  Gods  and  did  all  they  could  to  perpetuate  this 
feeling.  By  this  fact  alone  they  became  a  self-consti¬ 
tuted  mystic  organization,  being  themselves  pantheists 
while  the  people  were  idolators.  Though  they  taught 
pantheism  in  their  sacred  books,  the  second  and  third 
castes,  namely  the  warriors  and  farmers,  did  not  un¬ 
derstand  the  teaching,  and  the  fourth  caste  dared  not 
read  them  at  all. 

In  this  pantheism  penitents  and  hermits  were  es¬ 
teemed  as  above  kings  and  heroes;  but  even  the  life 
of  a  hermit  was  not  exacting  enough  for  them,  so  they 
organized  the  idea  of  a  soul  of  the  universe  so  incom¬ 
prehensible  that,  as  they  themselves  acknowledged, 
no  man  could  comprehend  it  or  instruct  another  in  it. 
Despairing  of  solving  the  problem  they  finally  fan¬ 
cied  that  the  universe  was  a  phantasm,  and  that  the 
earth  and  all  things  earthly  were  nothing.  They 
taught  that  through  countless  aeons  of  time  men  grewT 
always  worse,  and  were  born  only  to  suffer  and  die,  or 
to  do  penance  in  the  torments  of  an  indescribable 
Hell.  Naturally  of  all  these  things  the  people  could 
only  understand  the  teachings  pertaining  to  hell  and 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  107 


future  punishment,  and  so  the  Brahmins  contrived 
for  them  a  supreme  deity,  having  the  same  name  as 
their  Soul  of  the  Universe,  namely  Brahma,  whom 
they  made  the  creator  but  playing  a  passive  part. 
The  people  were  not  content,  however,  with  an  ab¬ 
sentee  passive  God,  but  paid  much  more  attention  to 
Vishnu  the  preserver,  and  the  dreaded  Siva,  the  des¬ 
troyer.  After  a  while  these  three  Gods  were  united 
in  a  sort  of  trinity,  represented  by  a  three  headed  fig¬ 
ure,  but  without  temples  or  sacrifices.  The  Brahmins 
continued  their  subtleties  and  divided  the  people  into 
parties,  like  the  scholiasts  and  disputants  of  the  mid¬ 
dle  centuries  of  our  present  Christian  era,  and  so  the 
Hindoo  religion  became  more  and  more  debased. 
However,  in  the  sixth  century  B.  C.,  Buddha,  that 
great  figure  in  early  history,  endeavored  to  save  it 
by  a  reform  which  found  much  more  encouragement 
in  the  West,  and  to  the  far  East  of  India,  than  in 
India  itself,  and  which  has  since  assumed  a  more  com¬ 
posite  character  by  fusion  with  the  religions  of  the 
surrounding  countries. 

Buddha  formed  first  a  monastic  society  based  upon 
ethical  doctrines,  whose  underlying  principle  was  that 
only  by  a  renunciation  of  everything  can  man  find 
safety,  peace  and  comfort.  Buddha’s  first  teachings 
were  mystic  and  for  the  initiated  only;  his  followers 
believed  also  in  reincarnation.  After  his  death  and 
that  of  those  who  were  supposed  to  have  lived  before 
him,  and  who  were  expected  to  appear  again,  and 
who  had  been  raised  to  the  dignity  of  Gods,  (and  af- 


io8  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


ter  their  number  had  been  added  to  that  of  the  pop¬ 
ular  Hindoo  Gods  and  to  the  Gods  of  the  other 
people) ,  then  Buddhism  became  a  polytheism,  and  be¬ 
cause  of  the  variety  of  possible  explanations  and  the 
necessary  exegesis,  assumed  in  the  end  the  dimensions 
of  a  secret  mystic  doctrine. 

The  Hellenes  undoubtedly  did,  in  the  beginning, 
worship  natural  forces  under  the  form  of  animals, 
especially  of  serpents;  later  human  and  animal  forms 
were  united,  and  so  they  had  deities  with  heads  of 
animals,  or  with  the  bodies  of  horses  like  the  Cen¬ 
taurs,  or  with  the  hoofs  of  goats  like  the  Satyrs.  But 
the  natural  Greek  taste  for  the  beautiful  early  assert¬ 
ed  itself;  the  figures  of  Gods  came  by  degrees  to 
express  the  ideal  of  physical  perfection,  that  is  the 
human  shape,  and  the  Grecian  religion  became  es¬ 
sentially  a  worship  of  the  beautiful,  and  not  as  among 
Oriental  religions  a  worship  of  the  unnatural  or  hide¬ 
ous.  They  forgot  the  astronomic  and  cosmic  signifi¬ 
cance  of  the  early  myths  and  held  rather  to  personi¬ 
fications  of  the  normal  forces,  of  which  their  poets 
sang  as  of  mortal  heroes.  They  never  dreamt  of 
dogma,  creed  or  revelation,  demanded  only  that  man 
honor  the  Gods,  but  left  it  to  the  taste  of  each  one 
how  he  should  suitably  perform  his  acts  of  reverence. 
It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  in  candor  and 
chastity  they  left  much  to  be  desired;  but  this  may 
be  explained  when  we  remember  that  their  own  Gods 
set  them  a  very  poor  example  in  these  respects.  Still 
history  will  forgive  them  much  because  they  loved 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  109 


much.  The  Greeks  were  exceedingly  liberal  in  their 
interpretations  concerning  the  Gods,  while  the  various 
peoples  constituting  the  Greek  race  were  not  at  all 
agreed  as  to  the  number  and  respective  rank  of  the 
Gods  whom  they  worshiped.  Thus  one  would  be  dis¬ 
owned  here,  another  there ;  while  in  one  place  great¬ 
er  honor  would  be  paid  to  one,  or  elsewhere  to  anoth¬ 
er;  exactly  as  in  the  case  of  the  Saints  among  the 
Catholic  people  of  to-day.  They  went  so  far  in  their 
worship  of  the  beautiful  as  to  divide  the  Gods  among 
the  localities  which  possessed  statues  of  them,  which 
Gods  came  to  be  regarded  as  distinct  individuals;  so 
that  even  Socrates  doubted  whether  Aphrodite  of  the 
sky  and  Aphrodite  of  the  people  were  or  were  not 
the  same  person. 

Furthermore  in  their  liberality  they  made  Gods 
to  hand  for  every  emergency,  and  even  worshiped 
the  unknown  Gods,  as  St.  Paul  long  ago  recorded. 
For  the  Greeks  these  Gods  were  neither  monsters 
like  those  of  Egypt,  India  and  Chaldea,  nor  incor¬ 
poreal  spirits  like  the  Gods  of  Persia  and  of  Israel, 
but  human  beings  with  all  the  human  attributes.  For 
the  Greeks  neither  Jehovah  existed,  nor  a  personal 
devil  in  any  form.  Like  the  Greeks  themselves  their 
Gods  had  many  human  failings,  though  in  them  re¬ 
ligion  survived  many  mythological  creations  like  the 
Centaurs,  the  Satyrs,  etc.  These  were  merely  folk¬ 
lore  beings  enacting  parts  ranging  from  terror  to 
farce,  and  never  receiving  divine  honors. 

Grecian  religion  was,  so  to  speak,  the  established 


no  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


church  of  the  Greek  states,  but  came  to  be  in  time 
a  cloak  for  the  designs  of  the  politicians ;  in  which  re¬ 
spect  history  has  many  times  repeated  itself.  For  in¬ 
stance  Socrates  was  made  to  drink  his  cup  of  hem¬ 
lock  on  the  pretext  that  he  had  apostatized  from  the 
state  religion.  Still  even  in  his  day  heresy  played  no 
part  except  among  politicians.  Every  one  could 
plainly  state  his  convictions,  and  Aristophanes  in  his 
comedies  introduced  Gods  in  the  most  ridiculous  and 
compromising  situations.  So  long  as  the  public  wor¬ 
ship  of  the  Gods  went  on  the  state  cared  little  for 
the  upholding  of  positive  or  suppressing  of  negative 
beliefs.  The  Gods  were  entitled  to  sacrifices  and  the 
people  to  divine  aid,  but  they  could  regulate  the  inter¬ 
change  to  suit  themselves.  The  greatest  public  crimes 
were  violation  of  temples  and  profanation  of  sacred 
things;  one  must  leave  the  images  alone  even  if  he 
did  not  believe  in  the  Gods  they  represented.  Pun¬ 
ishment  of  blasphemy  was  only  inflicted  when  com¬ 
plaint  was  made.  Foreign  Gods  could  be  introduced 
and  worshiped  at  will,  providing  only  that  the  cus¬ 
tomary  honors  were  rendered  to  those  at  home. 

Such  religious  freedom  could  naturally  only  exist 
during  the  minority  or  the  absence  of  a  priestly  class. 
Anyone  could  transact  business  with  the  Gods  or  con¬ 
duct  sacrifices;  priests  were  employed  only  in  the  tem¬ 
ples,  and  outside  of  them  they  had  neither  business, 
influence  nor  privileges.  Their  pantheism  was  com¬ 
prehensive  ;  the  Gods  were  everywhere,  and  the  hon¬ 
or  done  to  them  consisted  in  invocations,  votive  of- 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  hi 


ferings  and  sacrifices.  The  Grecian  religion  recog¬ 
nized  no  official  revelation  which  all  were  required  to 
believe,  though  it  did  not  deny  the  possibility  of  rev¬ 
elations  at  any  time.  Their  oracles  were  obtainable 
only  in  particular  places  and  through  duly  qualified 
individuals.  At  one  time  in  ancient  Greece  conjura¬ 
tion  was  in  vogue,  but  the  Gods  and  demons  who  in¬ 
dulged  in  it  were  all  borrowed  from  foreign  sources, 
and  in  time  it  degenerated  into  pure  magic. 

The  Greeks,  however,  could  not  get  away  from  the 
sentimental  notion  that  belief  in  the  Gods  must  have 
an  ethical  side  and  must  be  subordinate  to  their  faith; 
in  other  words  that  human  nature  was  something  en¬ 
tirely  different  from  the  divine  to  wThich  it  was  sub¬ 
ject.  Alienation  from  the  God  in  which  they  believed 
led  necessarily  to  the  impulse  to  seek  him,  which  was 
the  leading  motive  in  the  institution  of  the  Grecian 
mysteries, — Gods  who  were  man’s  equals  were  not 
sufficient  for  the  Greeks.  In  the  beginning  of  these 
mysteries  they  borrowed  the  art  of  the  popular  re¬ 
ligion,  disregarded  the  science  of  the  day  as  well  as 
the  philosophic  doctrines  of  their  great  men,  held  in 
contempt  both  human  power  and  human  knowledge, 
and  devoted  themselves  almost  entirely  to  self-intro¬ 
spection,  meditation  on  revelation,  incarnation  and 
resurrection,  and  presented  these  things  in  dramatic 
forms  and  ceremonies,  by  which  illusions  they  hoped 
to  make  more  or  less  impression  upon  the  senses. 
The  Grecian  mysteries  were  the  opposite  of  genuine 
Hellenism.  The  true  Greek  was  cheerful,  happy, 


1 12  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


clear  in  perception,  and  his  Gods  appeared  to  him  as 
do  their  statues  to  us  to-day.  But  Greek  mysticism 
was  full  of  gloom,  symbolism  and  fantastic  interpre¬ 
tations  ;  in  every  way  it  was  unhellenic  and  abnormal, 
having  no  fit  place  in  their  soil  nor  in  their  age.  It 
always  has  been  the  case  that  sentimental,  romantic 
or  mystical  dispositions  find  delight  in  the  mysterious, 
while  logical  minds  are  unmoved  by  it.  From  the 
Mvsteries  no  man  was  excluded,  save  those  who  had 
shown  themselves  unworthy  of  initiation.  They  had 
their  origin  in  the  early  rites  of  purification  and  atone¬ 
ment;  the  former  being  at  first  only  bodily  cleansing, 
which  later  took  on  a  moral  significance;  while  the 
atonement  was  a  sort  of  expiation  which  came  with 
the  consciousness  of  sin  and  desire  for  forgiveness. 
Atonement  was  most  called  for  in  case  of  blood  guilt¬ 
iness,  and  consisted  largely  in  the  sacrifices  of  animals, 
burning  of  incense,  etc.  In  all  the  ancient  mysteries 
these  two  features  of  purification  and  expiation  played 
a  great  part. 

Of  them  all  the  oldest  and  most  celebrated  were 
those  instituted  at  Eleusis,  in  Attica,  in  honor  of  the 
Goddess  Dcmeter  (Latin  Ceres),  and  her  daughter 
Persephone  (Latin  Proserpina).  To  these  were 
added  later  a  masculine  deity,  known  at  first  as  Iac- 
chos,  whose  name  is  probably  related  to  Jao,  which 
appears  in  Jovispater  or  Jupiter,  and  to  the  Hebrew 
Yahve  or  Jehovah.  Later,  however,  B  was  substi¬ 
tuted  for  I  and  Iacchos  was  made  to  read  Bacchus. 
Jao  was  the  Harvest  God,  and  consequently  God  of 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  113 


the  grape,  hence  the  close  relation  to  Bacchus.  The 
Greek  word  Eleusis  means  advent ,  and  commemo¬ 
rates  the  visit  of  Demeter  while  wandering  in  search 
of  her  daughter, — which  reminds  one  of  the  Egyp¬ 
tian  story  of  Isis.  Moved  by  gratitude,  Demeter 
bestowed  upon  the  people  of  Eleusis  the  bread-grain 
and  the  mysteries.  From  this  city  the  cult  of  these 
two  deities  spread  over  all  Greece  and  most  of  Asia 
Minor,  passed  into  Italy  in  modified  form,  and  thus 
became  widely  accepted.  The  people  built  at  Eleusis 
a  temple  in  pure  Doric  style  and  a  Mystic  House  in 
which  the  secret  festivals  were  held.  The  city  was 
connected  with  Athens  by  a  Sacred  Way,  which  was 
flanked  with  temples  and  sanctuaries,  while  in  Athens 
itself  was  a  building,  the  Eleusinion,  in  which  a  por¬ 
tion  of  the  mysteries  were  celebrated.  The  buildings 
at  Eleusis  were  in  good  preservation  until  the  fourth 
century  A.  D.,  when  they  were  destroyed  by  the 
Goths  under  Alaric,  and  at  the  instigation  of  monk¬ 
ish  fanatics.  You  will  see,  then,  that  the  mysteries 
were  widely  observed  in  Asia  Minor,  and  at  a  time 
when  they  must  have  deeply  tinged  the  religious  views 
and  habits  of  a  large  portion  of  the  population  prior 
to  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  Era. 

The  Eleusinian  mysteries  were  always  under  the 
direction  of  the  Athenian  government,  and  the  report 
of  their  celebration  was  always  rendered  to  the  grand 
council  of  Athens.  The  function  of  the  priests  was 
an  hereditary  and  exclusive  privilege  and  the  mys¬ 
teries  as  a  whole  were  under  the  immediate  care  of  a 


1 14  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


sacred  council.  The  people  contented  themselves 
mainly  with  honoring  the  Gods,  while  in  these  mys¬ 
teries  the  original  endeavor  was  to  emphasize  the 
preeminence  of  the  divine  over  the  human,  hence  their 
careful  guardianship  by  the  authorities  of  the  state. 
Both  were  offshoots  of  pantheism,  one  seeing  the  di¬ 
vine  in  all  earthly  things,  the  other  constantly  search¬ 
ing  for  it  there,  and  striving  to  unite  with  it.  Mono¬ 
theism,  that  is  absolute  separation  of  the  human  from 
the  divine  without  hope  of  union,  is  a  purely  Oriental 
conception,  quite  incomprehensible  to  the  Greek  mind. 
No  ancient  Greek  ever  conceived  of  a  creative  deity 
in  the  Egyptians’  sense,  nor  of  a  vengeful  Jehovah 
like  that  of  the  Hebrews. 

The  Eleusinian  mysteries  were  most  highly  venerat¬ 
ed  among  the  Greeks;  so  much  so  that  during  their  cel¬ 
ebration  hostilities  were  suspended  between  opposing 
armies,  while  those  who  witnessed  them  uninvited  or 
betrayed  the  secret  teaching,  or  ridiculed  them,  were 
executed  or  banished.  So  late  even  as  the  period  of 
the  Roman  supremacy  the  Roman  Emperors  took  an 
interest  in  maintaining  these  mysteries,  and  some  of 
the  early  Christian  Emperors,  like  Constantius  II. 
and  Jovian,  while  forbidding  nocturnal  festivals  made 
an  exception  of  these. 

The  sum  of  the  original  Eleusinian  doctrine  is  a 
myth  based  upon  the  rape  of  Demeter’s  daughter 
Persephone  by  Pluto,  all  of  which  is  the  old  story  of 
the  seasons  and  the  changes  brought  about  in  their 
regular  succession;  and  as  Persephone  was  ultimately 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  115 

united  with  Bacchus  but  returned  to  the  lower  world 
for  the  winter,  we  see  typified  first,  the  fruitfulness 
of  the  Sun  God;  secondly,  the  fecundity  of  the  soil, 
and,  thirdly,  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  which  hav¬ 
ing  been  dropped  like  the  grain  into  the  earth  was 
supposed  to  rise  from  it  again  after  a  similar  fashion. 
How  much  this  may  have  to  do  with  present  Chris¬ 
tian  beliefs  concerning  the  resurrection  may  not  be 
easily  decided.  Nevertheless  it  is  of  interest  that 
the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  is  of  pre-Christian  ori¬ 
gin  and  is  traceable  through  heathen  teachings,  even 
if  having  no  greater  support  than  the  analogy  above 
cited.  The  central  teaching  of  the  mysteries  was 
probably  that  of  a  personal  immortality  analogous 
to  the  return  of  bloom  and  blossom  to  plants  in  the 
spring. 

There  were  two  festivals  held  at  Eleusis,  the  les¬ 
ser  in  March,  when  the  ravished  Persephone  came  up 
out  of  the  nether  world  into  the  sunlight;  and  the 
greater  in  October  when  she  had  to  follow  her  sullen 
spouse  into  Hades  again.  The  preliminary  celebra¬ 
tion  was  held  at  Athens,  and  lasted  six  days,  from 
October  15th  to  20th.  They  all  assembled  upon  that 
day  and  went  down  to  the  seashore  for  the  rite  of 
purification,  the  other  days  being  spent  in  sacrificing 
and  marching  in  solemn  procession.  On  the  last  of 
them  came  the  grand  Bacchic  procession,  when  thou¬ 
sands  of  both  sexes  wended  their  way  along  the  sa¬ 
cred  road  to  Eleusis;  the  distance  to  be  traveled  was 
fourteen  miles,  but  many  stops  were  made.  Arrived 


1 1 6  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


at  Eleusis  the  first  evening  was  devoted  to  drinking 
the  decoction  called  kykeon,  by  which  Demeter  was 
originally  comforted  during  her  wanderings.  Dur¬ 
ing  the  first  days  the  initiated  feasted  and  performed 
their  mystic  rites,  consisting  largely  of  torch  light 
processions  at  night.  After  these  were  over  the  fes¬ 
tival  became  a  scene  of  merriment  and  athletic  com¬ 
petition.  The  fasting  and  solemn  cup,  along  with 
others  of  their  rites,  remind  one  of  certain  Christian 
observations  perpetuated  to  the  present  day,  while 
the  severe  tests  to  which  those  desiring  initiation  were 
subject  have  been  more  or  less  imitated  by  the  Free 
Masons  and  other  secret  societies  of  mediaeval  or 
modern  times.  The  Mystic  House  must  have  been 
furnished  with  all  the  resources  of  the  stage  and  the 
most  ingenious  stage  carpentry  of  that  day,  and  makes 
one  think  of  Scottish  Rite  Masonry  of  this.  The 
initiates  regarded  their  chances  in  the  next  world  as 
much  better  than  those  of  the  common  people,  as  all 
the  ancient  Greek  writers  acknowledge. 

In  age  and  renown  the  mysteries  of  the  Cabiri,  in 
the  island  of  Samothrace,  rank  next  to  those  of  Eleus¬ 
is.  They  date  back  to  a  time  preceding  the  evolution 
of  several  of  the  Grecian  deities.  These  Mysteries 
implied  originally  an  astro-mythology,  losing  in  time 
its  astral  meaning.  In  these  Samothracian  mysteries 
the  reproductive  forces  of  nature  figured  most  prom¬ 
inently,  and  through  them  the  Phallic  worship  of  the 
Orientals  was  transmitted  to  the  Greeks.  Into  these 
mysteries  women  and  even  children  were  initiated. 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  117 


There  were  also  Cabirian  mysteries  in  several  other 
Islands  in  the  Grecian  Archipelago,  as  well  as  on  the 
continent. 

Mysteries  were  also  celebrated  in  the  Island  of 
Crete,  in  honor  of  Zeus.  We  know  but  little  concern¬ 
ing  them  save  that  in  the  spring  time  the  birth  of  the 
God  was  commemorated  in  one  place,  and  his  death  at 
another,  and  that  amid  loud  noises  the  story  of  the 
childhood  of  Zeus  was  enacted  by  the  young. 

As  already  remarked  the  worship  of  Bacchus  was 
imported  and  in  him  was  personified  the  influence  of 
the  sun  upon  the  growth  of  the  vine,  while  the  ulti¬ 
mate  tendency  was  to  the  glorification  of  life  and 
force ;  in  other  words,  it  was  eminently  materialistic 
and  appealed  to  the  grosser  senses.  The  Dionysian 
mysteries  originated  in  Thrace,  and  among  a  people 
of  Pelasgian  stock,  who  were  naturally  gloomy  save 
when  aroused,  when  their  enthusiasm  became  exag¬ 
gerated  into  transports  of  frenzy.  In  time  a  dis¬ 
tinction  obtained  between  the  Dionysian  mysteries 
and  the  festivals.  At  least  seven  different  non-mystic 
festivals  occurred  in  Attica  during  the  year,  which 
were  of  popular  character,  during  which  the  Phallic 
worship,  if  any,  predominated.  The  fabled  adven¬ 
tures  of  Bacchus  were  enacted  and  the  dramatic  stage 
originated  at  this  time  and  from  this  beginning.  On 
the  other  hand,  a  triennial  festival  of  Dionysos  was 
held  in  which  women  participated  who,  saturated  with 
wine,  lost  all  restraint  and  humility  and  were  called 
maenades  or  mad  women,  while  their  festivals  were 


1 1 8  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


spoken  of  as  orgia,  whence  our  modern  term  orgies. 
These  were  conducted  at  night,  upon  the  mountains, 
by  torch-light,  in  mid-winter,  while  the  women,  who 
were  clothed  in  skins,  shunned  all  association  with 
men,  and  drank,  danced,  sang  and  committed  all  sorts 
of  excesses,  finally  sacrificing  a  bull,  in  honor  of  the 
god,  whose  flesh  they  devoured  raw.  They  then 
raved  about  the  death  of  their  god  and  how  he  must 
be  found  again;  all  hope  in  rediscovering  him  cen¬ 
tering  in  the  quickening  springtime. 

Bacchus  worship,  bad  as  it  was  in  Greece,  was  sur¬ 
passed  in  Rome,  Livy  even  comparing  the  introduction 
of  the  Bacchic  cult  into  Rome  to  a  visitation  of  the 
plague.  In  its  Etruscan  and  Roman  form  it  became 
simple  debauchery  with  a  thin  veneering  of  religion. 
So  abominable  did  it  become  in  time  that  in  186  B. 
C.,  the  Consul  Albinus  was  compelled  to  suppress  it. 
Seven  thousand  persons  were  implicated  at  that  time, 
and  the  ringleaders  and  a  multitude  of  their  accom¬ 
plices  were  condemned  to  death  or  exile.  The  sen¬ 
ate  decreed  that  the  Bacchanalia  should  never  again 
be  held  in  Rome  or  Italy,  and  the  places  sacred  to 
Bacchic  worship  were  to  be  destroyed.  These  orgies 
continued  unchecked  outside  of  Italy,  and  in  time  re¬ 
appeared  again  even  upon  Italian  soil,  until  the  days 
of  the  Roman  Emperors,  when  they  reached  a  pitch 
of  absolute  shamelessness,  as  in  the  case  of  the  notori¬ 
ous  Messalina. 

Time  fails  in  which  to  mention  all  of  the  other 
debased  mysteries  which  were  met  with  in  the  various 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  119 


parts  of  Greece  and  Italy.  Among  them,  however, 
must  be  recorded  those  of  the  mother  of  Rhea,  those 
of  Sebazios,  and  those  of  Mithras,  all  of  which  were 
finally  collected  by  the  sect  of  Orpheans.  Among  the 
Persians  Mithras  was  the  Light,  and  his  worship  was 
perhaps  the  purest  cult  that  could  be  imagined.  Later 
it  was  combined  with  sun  worship,  and  Mithras  be¬ 
came  a  Sun  God,  and  as  such  generally  recognized 
among  the  different  peoples.  To  the  early  Greeks 
Mithras  was  unknown,  but  in  the  later  days  of  the 
Roman  Empire  his  mysteries  made  their  appearance 
and  gained  great  prominence.  The  monuments  rep¬ 
resented  a  young  man  in  the  act  of  slaying  a  bull  with 
a  dagger,  while  all  around  are  human  and  animal  fig¬ 
ures,  the  youth  standing  for  the  Sun  God  who,  on 
subduing  Taurus  in  May,  begins  to  develop  his  high¬ 
est  power.  The  original  beautiful  rites  later  degener¬ 
ated  and  became  orgies.  Among  the  original  rites 
was  a  form  of  baptism  and  the  drinking  of  a  potion 
made  of  meal  and  water.  Human  sacrifices  were  in 
some  places  a  part  of  the  cult. 

The  most  disreputable  of  all  these  mysteries  ap¬ 
pear  to  have  been  the  Sabazian,  which  were  made 
up  of  several  earlier  forms,  and  were  mere  excuses 
for  gluttony  and  lewdness,  while  the  priests  of  the 
cult  were  most  impudent  beggars. 

Thus  in  time  the  mysteries  were  stripped  of  all  the 
beauties  of  a  heavenly  origin  and  became  of  earth  ex¬ 
ceedingly  earthy,  while  their  initiates,  lost  to  all  shame 
and  decency,  persisted  nevertheless  in  their  sacred  hy- 


i2o  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


pocrisy,  until  the  hideous  night  of  the  Gods  disap¬ 
peared  before  the  glow  of  a  brighter  morning. 

After  this  rather  long  preliminary  portion,  we  are 
now  prepared,  as  otherwise  we  could  not  be,  to  con¬ 
sider  the  relation  between  the  Christian  religion  and 
these  ancient  mysteries.  Granting  that  Jesus  was 
the  founder  of  the  Christian  religion,  we  must  re¬ 
member,  nevertheless,  that  he  was  distinctly  a  Jew, 
spent  his  life  in  Judea,  and  based  his  teachings  upon 
Judaism;  also  that  long  before  his  day  Judaism  was 
thoroughly  indoctrinated  with  Greek  elements,  and 
that  after  his  crucification  the  propaganda  was  car¬ 
ried  on  not  so  much  by  Jews  as  by  Greeks  and  men  of 
Grecian  education.  Between  the  Greeks  and  the 
Jews  there  were  then,  as  now,  the  greatest  differences; 
differences  which  have  already  been  epitomized,  but 
which  may  be  thus  summarized.  On  one  side  the 
closest  union  between  God  or  the  Gods  and  man,  most 
lofty  sentiments  and  finest  sense  of  art-form,  a  priest¬ 
hood  making  no  pretentions  and  exerting  little  influ¬ 
ence,  a  nation  sustaining  active  commercial  relations 
with  the  world,  and  all  imbued  with  eagerness  to 
adopt  whatever  was  novel;  on  the  other  side,  the 
widest  separation  between  Jehovah  and  man,  a  sub¬ 
stitution  of  theology  and  religious  poetry  for  a  study 
of  nature,  a  nation  ruled  by  priests  and  protected 
against  all  access  from  without,  either  by  sea  or 
caravan,  adhering  determinedly  to  the  old  and  dis¬ 
trusting  whatever  was  new. 

After  the  Jews  were  liberated  from  Babylon,  by 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  12 1 


Cyrus,  they  dispersed  widely,  living  largely  under 
Persian  rule,  and  subjected  after  Alexander’s  con¬ 
quest  to  Greek  influences.  Later  they  were  scattered 
still  more  widely,  becoming  in  time  a  mercantile  race. 
In  Egypt  they  enjoyed  greater  privileges  than  else¬ 
where,  and  in  Alexandria  saw  the  acme  of  Grecian 
art  and  teaching.  While  retaining  their  reverence  for 
their  scriptures  and  for  the  temple  at  Jerusalem,  they 
quite  generally  adopted  the  language  of  the  country, 
and  particularly  was  this  true  of  the  Jews  living  in 
Alexandria  in  the  third  century,  B.  C.,  during  which 
the  Pentateuch  was  translated  into  the  Septuagint,  the 
remainder  of  the  Hebrew  bible  being  translated  about 
125  B.  C.  Thus  the  Greeks  gained  an  introduction 
to  Jewish  theology,  while  the  Hellenist  Jews  learned 
for  the  first  time  a  Grecian  philosophy;  thus,  too, 
among  the  scholars  of  one  race  was  begotten  a  high 
esteem  for  the  sages  and  philosophers  of  the  other, 
while  from  the  polytheism  of  one  and  the  monotheism 
of  the  other  was  constructed  a  new  mysticism.  In 
this  Alexandrian  mysticism  appeared  in  particular  and 
for  the  first  time  the  new  idea  of  divine  revelation, 
which  was  applied  by  enthusiasts  alike  to  the  Old  Tes¬ 
tament  and  to  the  Grecian  writings.  The  Jew  Aris- 
tobulus  devised  a  most  ingenious  allegorical  interpre¬ 
tation  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  traced  to  it  all  the 
wisdom  of  the  Greeks,  who  until  recently  had  never 
heard  of  it;  and  Philo,  another  Hebrew  philosopher, 
contemporary  with  Christ,  yet  of  whom  he  knew 
nothing,  so  construed  the  traditions  of  his  race  as  to 


i22  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


see  in  the  four  rivers  of  Eden  the  four  cardinal  vir¬ 
tues,  in  the  trees  of  paradise  the  lesser  virtues,  and  in 
the  great  figures  of  Jewish  history  personifications  of 
various  moral  conceptions,  all  of  which  was  out-do¬ 
ing  the  manner  in  which  his  Grecian  friends  had  de¬ 
veloped  their  own  mysteries.  Moreover,  and  this  is 
very  important,  Philo  taught  that  God  had  made  a 
world  of  ideas  and  according  to  this  model  had  sub¬ 
sequently  made  a  corporeal  world;  the  former  hav¬ 
ing  for  its  central  point  the  Word.  This  statement 
that  the  Word  was  the  first  and  the  World  his  second 
deed  passed  later  into  the  gospel  of  St.  John,  which 
opens  uIn  the  beginning  was  the  word,  and  the  word 
was  God.” 

Philo  founded  a  sect  based  upon  the  doctrine  that 
the  soul’s  union  with  the  body  is  to  be  regarded  as 
a  punishment  from  which  man  should  free  himself, 
for  his  soul’s  sake.  This  sect  was  known  as  the  Es- 
senes,  who  in  spite  of  claims  to  the  highest  antiquity 
really  were  founded  during  the  first  century  B.  C., 
and  who  constituted  in  effect  a  secret  society.  They 
were  the  true  socialists  of  their  day,  and  held  things 
in  common.  They  invented  a  peculiar  nomenclature 
for  the  angels  and  imposed  upon  their  new  members 
to  keep  these  names  secret.  As  a  society  they  did  not 
long  survive  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era,  be¬ 
ing  made  superfluous  by  Christian  asceticism.  The 
Essenes,  however,  were  of  importance  in  this  regard 
that  they  constituted  the  middle  terms  between  the 
Grecian  mysteries  and  Christianity,  as  they  did  be- 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  123 


tween  Grecian  philosophy  and  Judaism.  They  were, 
in  effect,  a  Jewish  imitation  of  the  Pythagorean 
league.  When  with  Grecian  mysticism  were  associated 
the  nobility  of  Socrates ,  the  philosophy  of  Plato ,  the 
science  of  Aristotle  and  the  Jewish  belief  in  one  God, 
it  is  not  strange  that  out  of  these  elements,  combined 
with  the  teachings  of  simple  humanity  enunciated  by 
Christ,  there  resulted  a  power  which  transformed  the 
world.  The  view  that  all  mankind  are  brothers, 
originally  Jewish,  was  also  of  independent  Greek  ori¬ 
gin  and  came  especially  from  the  Stoics,  who  had  to 
lie  dormant  until  some  tie  stronger  than  mere  political 
association  held  men  together.  This  tie  subsequently 
became  a  religious  one.  Polytheism  had  nothing 
more  to  give  up;  all  the  forces  had  been  worked 
over  in  the  God-making  process,  the  Pantheon  was 
full,  and  men  ridiculed  alike  the  Gods,  their  oracles 
and  their  priests.  These  same  priests  smiled  at  each 
other  when  they  met,  and  forfeited  all  public  respect 
by  the  lives  they  led.  Olympic  wantoning  and  deri¬ 
sion  of  the  Gods  must  necessarily  have  ended  so  soon 
as  anything  better  could  be  substituted  therefor. 

The  long  felt  want  was  for  a  God  of  definite  char¬ 
acter,  of  approved  prowess,  with  human  feelings,  hu¬ 
man  wrath,  and  human  love,  made  after  man’s  own 
likeness,  who  should  stand  for  a  doctrine  of  personal 
immortality,  and  give  some  promise  of  a  hereafter. 
The  Jews,  the  only  monotheists  of  the  time, 
were  prepared  to  furnish  such  a  God,  but 
he  was  too  spiritual,  and  was  worshiped  by  altogeth- 


124  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


er  too  indefinite  rites  and  peculiar  usages.  Neverthe¬ 
less  the  God  of  the  Jews  was  utilized  for  this  purpose 
while  the  mystic  elements  with  which  he  was  to  be 
surrounded  were  furnished  by  the  ancient  Grecian 
mysteries  and  the  doctrines  of  the  Pythagoreans  and 
Essenes.  So  completely  did  the  Jews  and  Greeks 
mingle  in  Egypt  and  in  Judea,  that  the  idea  prevailed 
among  both  races  that  the  time  had  come  for  some¬ 
thing  new  in  the  desired  direction.  The  various  se¬ 
cret  leagues  demanded  a  separation  of  the  divine  from 
the  human  and  their  subsequent  reconciliation,  all  of 
which  was  subsequently  furnished  to  their  satisfaction 
in  the  accounts  of  the  origin  and  death  of  Christ. 
Even  during  the  early  years  of  the  Roman  Empire 
men  looked  for  a  new  kingdom  in  the  East,  and  both 
Jews  and  Heathen  awaited  some  divine  intervention. 
This  took  more  definite  form  in  the  Jewish  expecta¬ 
tion  of  a  Messiah  who  should  restore  the  kingdom  of 
Israel,  and  in  their  worship  of  Jehovah,  while  the 
Greeks  yearned  for  something  to  take  the  place  of 
their  degenerate  polytheism. 

The  times  were  thus  ready  for  the  appearance  of 
Jesus,  who  lived  for  most  of  his  life  in  obscurity,  and 
of  whose  career  no  mention  is  made  by  contemporary 
Greek  and  Roman  writers.  This  was  perhaps  for¬ 
tunate  for  his  followers,  for  none  could  contradict 
what  any  other  might  choose  to  say  of  Him  who  rose 
above  the  bigotry  of  his  day  and  people,  who  was  ex¬ 
ecuted  because  of  his  independence  of  the  priests  and 
scribes,  and  who  was  thus  regarded  as  the  longed 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  125 


for  Messiah.  On  the  Jewish  branch  of  his  real  ori¬ 
gin  were  grafted  Grecian  mystical  off-shoots  of  super¬ 
human  origin; — an  immaculate  conception,  a  vicar¬ 
ious  sacrifice,  a  resurrection  and  an  assumption  of  a 
portion  of  the  God-head.  Thus,  in  what  has  come 
down  to  us  concerning  the  Founder  of  the  Christian 
church,  truth  and  fiction  mingle;  the  former  being 
that  which  is  consistent  with  highest  laws  and  natural 
phenomena ;  and  the  latter  that  which  conflicts  with 
these.  Jesus  himself  never  made  pretentions  to  being 
more  than  a  man.  When  he  spoke  of  his  father  he 
spoke  of  him  as  equally  the  father  of  all  mankind; 
he  was  the  greatest  moral  reformer  that  ever  lived, 
and  he  differed  widely  from  the  Essenes  in  that  he 
sought  to  save  man,  not  by  Essenism  and  withdraw¬ 
ing  him  from  the  world,  but  by  living  with  him  and 
setting  him  a  beautiful  example. 

The  ancients  were  firm  believers  in  signs  and  por¬ 
tents  from  the  heavens  which  were  supposed  to  serve 
both  for  the  instruction  and  warning  of  mankind. 
Stars,  meteors,  the  aurora,  comets  and  sudden  lights 
of  any  kind  were  regarded  as  presaging  events  like 
the  birth  of  Gods,  heroes,  etc.  Great  lights  were  sup¬ 
posed  to  have  appeared  both  at  the  conception  and 
birth  of  Buddha,  and  of  Crishna.  The  sacred  writ¬ 
ings  of  China  tell  of  like  events  in  the  history  of  the 
founder  of  her  first  dynasty,  Yu,  and  of  her  inspired 
sages.  The  Greeks  and  Romans  had  similar  tra¬ 
ditions  regarding  the  birth  of  Aesculapius  and  sever¬ 
al  of  the  Caesars.  In  Jewish  history  we  read  that  a 


126  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


star  appeared  at  the  birth  of  Moses,  and  of  Abra¬ 
ham — for  whom  an  unusual  one  appeared  in  the  East. 
The  prominence  which  a  similar  star  in  the  East 
played  in  the  legends  of  the  Founder  of  Christianity 
and  the  effect  which,  as  also  in  the  case  of  Moses  it 
had  upon  Magi,  needs  here  no  rehearsing.  A  very 
different  significance  was  attached  to  eclipse  or  to  any 
phenomena  by  which  unexpected  darkness  is  produced. 
The  Greeks  held  that  at  the  deaths  of  Prometheus, 
Hercules,  Aesculapius  and  Alexander,  a  great  dark¬ 
ness  overspread  the  earth.  In  Roman  history  the 
earth  was  shadowed  in  darkness  for  six  hours  when 
Romulus  died.  Much  the  same  thing  is  reported  to 
have  occurred  when  Julius  Caesar  died.  So  also  one 
of  the  most  conspicuous  features  attending  the  cruci¬ 
fixion  of  Jesus  was  a  similar  phenomenon  which  is 
made  to  play  a  most  conspicuous  part,  for  we  read  in 
three  of  the  gospels  that  “darkness  spread  over 
the  earth  from  the  sixth  to  the  ninth  hour;”  although 
the  only  evangelist  who  claims  to  have  been  present 
says  nothing  about  it,  nor  do  historians  of  that  time, 
like  Seneca  and  Pliny,  make  note  of  any  such  event 
in  Judea. 

In  view  of  all  this,  however,  to  deny  the  star  in  the 
East,  and  the  hours  of  darkness  following  the  cru¬ 
cifixion,  is  regarded  by  many  pious  people  as  rank 
blasphemy  or  heresy  of  the  deepest  dye. 

The  parables  in  which  Jesus  taught  so  unmistaka¬ 
bly  were  similes  adapted  to  the  simple  comprehension 
of  his  people,  who  likewise  often  made  use  of  such 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  127 


figurative  language.  Those  who  followed  him  used 
this  form  of  speech  much  more  freely,  and  quickly 
erected  his  personality  into  the  dignity  of  a  God,  mag¬ 
nified  him  and  his  mission,  and  soon  saw  him  gener¬ 
ally  accepted  as  the  equivalent  of  the  Messiah,  for 
whom  Greeks  and  Jews  alike  had  longed.  His  al¬ 
leged  miracles  were  unnecessary,  in  addition  to  being 
contradictory  to  all  known  natural  sequences,  because 
the  simple  and  sublime  truths  which  he  preached  could 
not  be  made  more  expressive  by  any  such  help.  In 
the  light  of  to-day  they  seem  unnecessary  juggleries, 
quite  unworthy  of  so  grand  a  character.  They  prob¬ 
ably  represent  the  effort  of  his  followers,  who  por¬ 
trayed  his  life  and  personality  in  colors  which  would 
make  them  more  generally  acceptable. 

Of  such  transformations  as  that  by  which  the  son 
of  a  carpenter  was  made  to  appear  of  divine  origin 
history  has  no  lack.  The  Grecian  polytheism  fur¬ 
nished  numerous  illustrations;  Apollo  appeared  on 
earth  as  a  shepherd,  Herakles,  the  son  of  Zeus,  and 
Romulus  (who  was  also  the  son  of  a  virgin  and  of 
Mars),  were  founders  of  cities,  states  and  nations. 
The  Jewish  accounts  of  creation  stated  that  God 
walked  the  earth,  and  why  not  in  human  form  ?  Why 
also  should  not  the  founder  of  a  religion  be  the  son 
of  God  and  of  a  virgin?  The  rest  of  the  beautiful 
story  upon  which  we  were  all  brought  up  must  be  re¬ 
garded  as  fanciful  embellishment,  beautiful  in  its 
imagery,  but  having  no  foundation  in  fact  or  scien¬ 
tific  possibility.  The  annunciation,  the  star  in  the 


128  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


East,  the  slaughter  of  the  innocents,  etc.,  can  only  be 
regarded  in  this  light. 

The  stories  of  the  miracles  are  probably  distinctive¬ 
ly  purposive.  In  the  Grecian  mysteries  Demeter  and 
Dionysos  figured  as  givers  of  bread  and  wine;  Jesus, 
too,  was  made  lord  and  giver  of  these  two  sacred  vi¬ 
ands,  all  of  which  appears  in  his  changing  water  into 
wine,  multiplying  the  loaves,  and  later  in  the  institu¬ 
tion  of  the  Last  Supper,  at  which  bread  and  wine  be¬ 
came  a  part  of  these  Christian  mysteries  which  are 
still  widely  perpetuated.  In  his  quieting  the  storm, 
walking  upon  the  water,  finding  the  penny  in  the 
fishes’  mouth,  and  the  draught  of  fishes,  are  portrayed 
his  power  over  the  forces  of  nature  and  lower  forms 
of  life.  His  power  over  disease  was  personified  by 
stories  of  healing  paralytics,  lepers,  blind,  deaf  and 
dumb  people,  casting  out  devils,  and  even  by  restor¬ 
ing  the  dead  to  life.  Apparitions  were  common  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  history  of  his  life,  as  of  the  holy  spirit 
in  form  of  a  dove,  his  encounter  with  Satan,  the  ap¬ 
pearance  of  Moses  and  Elias,  etc.  The  ancient  ten¬ 
dency  to  personify  appears  again  in  the  form  of  Sa¬ 
tan  or  a  personal  devil,  namely  the  power  of  evil, 
while  in  the  Transfiguration  is  personified  the  superi¬ 
ority  of  the  new  law  over  the  old.  Finally  the  mira¬ 
cles  attending  his  last  days,  the  darkening  of  the  sun, 
the  rending  of  the  veil  and  the  Resurrection,  were  all 
occurrences  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  omit 
from  the  closing  scenes  in  the  life  of  anyone  who  has 
figured  as  I  God.  They  betoken  the  mourning  of 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  129 


nature,  while  the  Ascension  personified  the  belief  in 
an  everlasting  Redeemer  and  the  individual  immor¬ 
tality  of  those  who  believed  in  him. 

In  thus  epitomizing  the  events  in  the  life  of  Jesus 
upon  which,  from  his  day  until  now,  men  have  laid 
such  fearful  stress,  and  upon  whose  acceptance  the 
present  life  as  well  as  the  future  of  all  men  has  been 
conditioned,  I  should  be  far  from  doing  justice  to  my¬ 
self  should  I  fail  to  point  out  my  own  attitude  in  the 
matter.  I  hold  it  true  that  the  self-evident  truth,  as 
well  as  the  wonderful  sublimity  of  Christ’s  teachings, 
become  apparent  upon  the  study  of  the  same,  and  are 
weakened  rather  than  strengthened  by  insistence  upon 
all  that  is  supernatural,  mysterious  and  inconceivable 
in  the  generally  accepted  account  of  his  life  and  labor. 
My  mind  is  freed  from  the  necessity  for  the  mysteri¬ 
ous  which  the  Graeco-Jewish  people  demanded,  and 
which  the  superstitious  people  of  to-day  still  demand, 
and  I  prefer  to  let  him  stand  for  what  he  seems  to  me 
to  be, — the  greatest  moralist  and  teacher  of  all  time , 
rather  than  to  surround  him  with  a  veil  of  imagery 
and  with  statements  so  impossible  of  belief  as  to  make 
it  impossible  to  accept  one  part  without  accepting 
them  all.  The  Jews  already  had  doctrines  of  unity 
of  God  and  love  for  others ;  the  Grecian  philosophy 
antedated  him  in  insisting  upon  elevation  of  life  to  a 
higher  plane  than  that  of  mere  gratification  of  the 
senses,  and  everywhere  his  predecessors  and  contem¬ 
poraries  could  furnish  miracles  by  the  hundred,  but  in 
force,  grandeur  and  simplicity  of  his  teachings,  in  his 


1 3o  FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY 


comprehensive  humanity,  in  his  directness  of  appeal, 
in  his  condemnations  of  those  who  departed  from  the 
model  which  he  set,  he  never  has  had  and  probably 
never  will  have  an  equal.  In  his  self-abasement  and 
love  for  others  he  was  as  irresistible  as  have  been 
these  principles  in  civilizing  and,  in  this  sense,  chris¬ 
tianizing  the  world. 

In  Jesus’  own  day  there  was  no  hair-splitting  theol¬ 
ogy;  devotion,  love  of  fellow-men,  charity,  repent¬ 
ance,  these  were  all  that  were  needed.  But  the  beau¬ 
tiful  simplicity  of  his  teaching  was  lost  with  the  death 
of  his  first  disciples.  The  system  was  esteemed  too 
simple,  too  unadorned  to  appeal  to  the  people  used 
to  something  quite  the  contrary.  And  so  Stephen  the 
Martyr,  who  was  of  Grecian  education,  was  stoned 
because  he  demanded  a  repudiation  of  certain  Jewish 
teachings,  although  the  congregation  at  Antioch  adopt¬ 
ed  his  views. 

Paul  the  great  leader  was  an  epileptic  and 
had  frequent  fits  and  visions,  and  these  made  a  strong 
impression,  not  only  on  himself  but  on  his  followers. 
On  the  creations  of  his  imagination  the  doctrine  of 
the  resurrection  is  largely  based.  He  set  up  the  God- 
man  Jesus  as  the  counterpart  of  the  first  man  Adam, 
who  represented  sin  and  death,  and  who  was  to  be 
crucified  and  born  anew  in  Christ.  Between  Paul,  the 
great  Gentile  Christian,  and  Peter,  the  Jewish  Chris¬ 
tian,  the  church  was  quickly  split  into  two  parties; 
these  two  soon  subdividing  into  others,  and  among 
them  all  arose  the  New  Testament  literature,  whose 


FOUNDATION  OF  CHRISTIANITY  13 1 


Alexandrine  dialect  establishes  the  influence  of  Greek 
education. 

Thus  did  Christianity  develop  out  of  the  secret  as¬ 
sociations  of  the  ancient  world.  The  early  Christians 
themselves  constituted,  at  least  while  under  persecu¬ 
tion,  a  sort  of  secret  society.  Their  worship  was  mys¬ 
tical,  but  not  because  Jesus  so  taught; — rather  be¬ 
cause  of  their  environment  and  traditions.  The  prac¬ 
tice  of  baptism,  the  last  supper  and  the  doctrines  of 
incarnation  and  resurrection  have  been  as  certainly 
added  to  the  Nazarene’s  sublime  code  of  ethics  as  to 
them  in  turn,  in  the  centuries  to  follow,  were  added 
every  conceivable  notion,  mystery  and  stupid  absurdity 
which  the  diseased  minds  of  men  could  imagine,  and 
which  have  been  the  cause  of  more  departure  from 
Christ’s  original  teachings,  and  of  more  strife  and 
bloodshed  than  any  other  feature  in  the  history  of 
mankind. 

Indeed  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  inconsistencies  of 
history  that  the  doctrines  of  love,  unity  and  peace, 
taught  by  the  Founder  of  Christianity,  should  have 
been  the  greatest  of  all  factors  to  rend  mankind  apart, 
beget  feelings  of  hatred,  and  result  in  the  death,  from 
this  cause,  of  millions  of  men  such  as  Jesus  himself 
most  loved. 


VI 


THE  KNIGHTS  HOSPITALLER  OF  ST.  JOHN 

OF  JERUSALEM 


HE  three  great  militant,  mendicant  and 

1  monastic  orders  of  the  middle  ages  were  the 
Knights  Hospitaller  of  St.  John,  the 
Knights  Templar,  and  the  Teutonic  Order. 
In  addition  were  numerous  others,  smaller,  shorter 
lived,  less  important  in  every  respect,  scarcely  men¬ 
tioned  in  even  the  larger  histories,  like  the  knights 
of  Calatrava,  Alcantara,  Santiago  de  Compostella, 
and  the  English  Knights  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
These  orders  were  the  immediate  as  well  as  the  indi¬ 
rect  outgrowth  of  mediaeval  conditions  for  which 
both  the  Church  and  the  State  were  responsible.  The 
secret  tenets  of  the  Christians  had  been  made  public, 
and  those  who  held  to  them  had  for  some  time  ceased 
to  be  a  secret  society;  their  faith  was  now  a  part  of 
that  church  which  was  essentially  the  State,  and  which 
occupied  a  goodly  part  of  Europe. 

Sad  to  say  the  Church  was  rent,  and  the  State  suf¬ 
fered  accordingly  from  constant  strife  between  sects 
and  parties,  who  contested,  even  to  the  death,  over 
interpretations  to  be  given  to  the  scriptures,  and  the 
matter  of  creeds.  Thus  while  discussing  at  point  of 
the  sword  whether  the  soul  is  to  be  saved  by  good 
works,  or  by  grace  of  God,  they  disregarded  the  very 

I32 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


133 


essence  of  the  simple  teachings  of  Jesus,  and  brought 
upon  theology,  even  in  those  days,  the  contempt  and 
ridicule  of  the  liberal  minded  and  the  non-believer,  so 
that  even  to-day  it  suffers  because  of  the  unfortunate 
light  in  which  it  was  made  to  appear.  That  theology 
should  lead  to  war  is  the  antithesis  of  the  Christian 
doctrine,  yet  no  wars  have  been  so  fierce  and  bloody 
as  those  waged  in  “spreading  the  cross”  and  propa¬ 
gating  a  misinterpreted  gospel.  And  so  theology  suf¬ 
fered  doubly  from  the  Monks  who  perverted  it,  and 
from  the  Knights  and  the  State  that  inculcated  it  with 
fire  and  sword. 

For  a  thousand  years  nothing  of  importance  was 
added  to  human  knowledge,  and  mental  confusion 
reigned  supreme.  At  the  end  of  this  period  all  the 
original  teachings  of  Christ  were  forgotten,  and  after 
passing  through  the  hands  and  tongues  of  fanatics 
or  deluded  and  ignorant  men,  Christianity  was  left 
with  the  semblance  of  a  monotheistic  basis  on  which 
had  been  crudely  built  up  certain  doctrines  borrowed 
from  Egyptian  and  Grecian  sources,  among  which 
may  be  mentioned  the  Trinity,  Immaculate  Concep¬ 
tion,  Resurrection  and  Ascension,  as  well  as  certain 
practices  like  that  of  the  Lord’s  Supper,  plainly  bor¬ 
rowed  from  pagan  customs.  There  was  in  all  this 
so  much  to  challenge  belief,  and  so  much  at  first  un¬ 
acceptable  to  minds  not  trained  to  believe  it,  that,  in 
order  to  be  effective  their  propaganda  had  to  be  car¬ 
ried  on  with  the  sword.  Moreover  to  the  Christian 
mystic,  anxious  to  unify  himself  with  the  hidden, 


134 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


unknown  diety,  the  idea  of  Moslem  unbelievers  in 
possession  of  the  high  places  which  they  regarded 
with  such  reverence,  was  simply  intolerable  and  re¬ 
pugnant  beyond  description. 

Hence  the  Crusades  undertaken  in  order  to  regain 
the  Sepulchre;  in  which  by  Papal  decree  the  Monks 
joined  the  Knights,  and  under  command  of  emperors 
and  the  greatest  generals  of  their  day,  made  tempo¬ 
rary  conquest  of  the  Holy  Land,  founding  the  king¬ 
dom  of  Jerusalem.  The  immediate  outcome  of  the 
general  movement  was  that  alliance,  made  wise  and 
even  necessary,  when  theology  and  chivalry  joined 
hands,  from  which  resulted  the  foundation  of  such  or¬ 
ders  as  those  mentioned  at  the  beginning  of  this  pa¬ 
per.  These  allies  of  which  they  were  composed,  all 
took  the  monastic  vows  of  poverty,  chastity  and 
obedience,  and  for  a  time  kept  them,  until  the  pos¬ 
session  of  power  and  the  acquisition  of  wealth  brought 
their  inevitably  accompanying  temptations.  Each  of 
these  orders  and  many  of  the  others  passed  through 
the  successive  stages  of  poverty,  with  meekness  and 
constant  benefaction,  succeeded  sooner  or  later  by 
temporal  aggrandizement,  selfishness,  greed,  and  ra¬ 
pacity,  with  all  the  crimes  in  the  calendar,  and  the 
inevitable  ultimate  downfall.  Of  them  all  the  Hos¬ 
pital  Knights  bore  by  all  means  the  least  smirched 
record,  on  which  account,  partly,  as  well  as  because 
of  their  most  prominent  purpose,  i.  e.,  their  work 
among  the  sick,  wounded  and  distressed,  I  deem  their 
careers  worthy  of  more  particular  study. 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


135 


For  this  purpose  we  may  quickly  dismiss  the  Teu¬ 
tonic  knights  from  present  consideration,  simply  re¬ 
minding  you  that  they  were  really  the  founders  of 
modern  Prussia.  They  had  their  own  origin  in  the 
commendable  public  spirit  of  the  merchants  of  Lii- 
beck  and  Bremen,  who  during  the  siege  of  Acre  made 
tents  out  of  the  sails  of  their  ships,  in  which  their 
wounded  countrymen  might  be  nursed  and  attended. 
Most  of  their  active  service  against  the  Saracens  was 
in  Spain. 

Of  the  Knights  Templar  a  little  must  be  said  here. 
About  1 1 19  two  Knights,  Hugo  (or  Hugh)  of  Pay- 
ens,  and  Godfrey  of  St.  Omers,  associated  with  them¬ 
selves  six  other  French  Knights  in  a  league  of  mili¬ 
tary  character,  styling  themselves  “Poor  Knights  of 
Christ,”  and  pledged  themselves  to  keep  safe  for 
pilgrims  the  highways  of  the  Holy  Land.  They  pros¬ 
pered  and  grew,  and  came  into  the  favor  of  Baldwin 
I,  king  of  that  kingdom  of  Jerusalem  already  men¬ 
tioned.  Inasmuch  as  their  Monastery  occupied  a  part 
of  the  site  of  Solomon’s  temple  of  old  they  were 
known  as  Templars .  At  the  synod  of  Troyes,  in  1128, 
they  were  recognized  as  a  regular  Order,  and  received 
monastic  rules  and  habits,  with  a  special  banner. 
They  were  also  known  as  “Poor  Companions  of  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem,”  a  name  which  did  not  very 
long  befit  them.  At  first,  like  the  Hospital  Knights, 
they  begged  their  food,  fasted,  kept  vows,  worshipped 
diligently,  and  cared  for  the  poor  and  infirm.  Beard 
and  hair  were  cropped  short,  the  chase  was  forbid- 


136 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


den,  and  they  took  the  usual  vows  of  chastity.  But  as 
they  acquired  property  they  forgot  the  simple  life  and 
habit,  as  well  as  their  vows  of  obedience  and  chas¬ 
tity,  while  their  pledge  to  protect  the  pilgrim  on  his 
way  became  in  time  a  farce,  not  alone  through  their 
indifference  and  negligence,  but  through  their  trea¬ 
sonable  dealings  with  the  Saracens,  and  even  treach¬ 
erous  surrender  of  their  strongholds. 

Thus,  whatever  their  pristine  purpose,  lucre  and 
power  became  the  later  objects  of  their  strife  and  the 
impelling  motives  of  their  lives.  By  the  accession  of 
so-called  “affiliated  members”  they  avoided  the  rule 
of  celibacy,  and  admitted  married  knights  and  those 
engaged  to  be  married. 

Their  Grand  Masters  in  time  ranked  next  after 
Popes  and  Monarchs.  While  the  former  favored 
them  it  was  mainly  because  they  feared  them.  They 
were  exempt  from  all  episcopal  jurisdiction,  and  sub¬ 
ject  only  to  the  Pope.  So  rich  and  powerful  did  they 
become  that  at  the  time  of  their  suppression  they  con¬ 
trolled  an  Empire  of  five  provinces  in  the  East  and 
sixteen  in  the  West,  while  the  Order  possessed  some 
15,000  houses.  They  aimed  to  make  all  Christen¬ 
dom  dependent  upon  themselves,  with  only  the  Pope 
as  their  nominal  head. 

Of  their  personal  bravery,  which  was  usually  im¬ 
peccable,  of  their  affluence  and  intolerable  effrontery, 
and  of  many  of  their  traits  and  characteristics,  one 
may  form  an  excellent  idea  by  reading  Ivanhoe,  where 
these  seem  to  be  quite  faithfully  depicted.  It  is,  to 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


137 


me  I  confess,  just  a  little  amusing  as  well  as  sadden¬ 
ing  to  see  the  men,  who  name  their  secret  Masonic 
associations  after  the  founders  of  the  Order,  display¬ 
ing  and  imitating,  at  least  in  public  where  alone  they 
can  be  judged  by  outsiders,  only  those  features  of 
Templar  Knighthood  which  marked  the  period  of 
their  decadence  or  their  downfall.  As  imitations  they 
may  be  historically  accurate,  but  as  worthy  of  emula¬ 
tion,  or  even  of  imitation  such  displays  are 
matters  of  questionable  taste,  at  least,  to  those  who 
read  medieval  history. 

The  Templars  in  their  days  of  splendor  and  later 
downfall,  were  neither  pious,  nor  learned,  nor  good 
Christians.  Many  of  their  secret  doctrines  were  of 
heretical  origin,  taken  from  the  Waldenses  or  the 
Albigenses,  and  they  cared  far  more  for  their  own 
possessions  than  for  the  Holy  Land.  They  promul¬ 
gated  the  shameful  excuse  that  God  evidently  willed 
that  the  Saracen  should  win;  that  the  defects  of  the 
Crusaders  were  evidently  according  to  His  decision, 
and  that  therefore  they  were  released  from  their  vows, 
and  could  return  to  Europe,  where  indeed  they  rest¬ 
ed — after  their  fashion, — from  their  labors,  and 
passed  their  time  in  doing  everything  their  founders 
had  vowed  not  to  do. 

But  this  is  not  intended  to  be  an  epitome  of  Temp¬ 
lar  history;  rather  a  brief  statement  of  the  reasons 
why  they  went  proudly  and  sometimes  stoically  to 
their  final  downfall,  and  why  the  Hospital  Order, 
though  not  always  keeping  up  to  its  earlier  standards, 


1 38  KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 

nevertheless  so  far  eclipsed  them,  as  to  become  the 
recipients  of  very  much  of  the  Templars’  enormous 
resources  and  wealth,  being  thought  worthy  to  be  thus 
entrusted.  And  so  it  happened  that,  in  1307,  Philip 
of  France  had  all  the  Templars  in  France  arrested 
and  their  property  sequestrated.  This  led  to  a  tri¬ 
partite  dispute  in  which  were  involved  the  Templars, 
the  Pope  and  the  King.  In  1310  fifty-four  Templar 
Knights  were  burned  alive  in  Paris.  At  last  the  Pope, 
to  prevent  their  property  from  falling  into  secular 
hands,  made  over  to  the  Hospitallers  most  of  the 
Templar  estates,  excepting  however  those  in  Spain. 
The  Grand  Master  Molay  and  another  Templar  were 
burned  to  death  on  an  island  in  the  Seine. 

So  'much  then  in  brief,  for  purposes  of  contrast. 
Now  to  the  avowed  subject  of  this  paper. 

During  the  seventeenth  century  there  rose  a  contro¬ 
versy  as  to  the  foundation  of  a  hospital  already  in  ex¬ 
istence  in  Jerusalem,  named  after  the  Asmorean  prince 
John  Hyrcanus,  (the  son  and  successor  of  Simon 
Maccabaeus,  who  restored  the  independence  of  Judea 
and  founded  a  monarchy  over  which  his  descendants 
reigned  till  the  accession  of  Herod.  He  died  105  B. 
C.).  This  was  at  a  time  when  the  pious  merchants  of 
Amalfi  planned  a  refuge  for  their  pilgrims.  It  was  this 
John  whom  many  suppose  to  have  been  the  patron  of 
the  order,  though  it  seems  now  clearly  established 
that  the  first  sponsor  or  the  first  St.  John,  in  this  con¬ 
nection,  was  the  Greek  patriarch  John  surnamed  Elee- 
mon,  or  the  Charitable,  because  of  his  practical  phil- 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


139 


anthropy.  (See  “St.  John  the  Almsgiver,”  Rev.  H. 
T.  F.  Duckworth,  1901).  But  by  the  time  the  Cru¬ 
saders,  under  Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  had  taken  Jerusa¬ 
lem  from  the  Saracens,  St.  John  Baptist  seems  to  have 
become  the  acknowledged  patron  saint  of  the  hos¬ 
pital,  his  image  being  worn  by  epileptic  patients,  and 
being  later  adopted  as  the  regular  badge  for  those 
engaged  in  hospital  work. 

But  this  term  hospital  must  not  be  regarded  in  its 
present  acceptance ;  it  was  used  in  a  broader  sense  to 
imply  any  house  of  refuge,  even  from  wild  animals; 
in  fact  a  hospice. 

This  particular  hospice  seems  to  have  been  erected 
on  the  ruins  of  one  founded  by  St.  Gregory  in  603, 
where  it  is  known  that  the  French  Benedictines 
worked.  Two  centuries  later  Charlemagne  had  claim¬ 
ed  the  title  of  Protector  of  the  Pilgrims.  (“De  Prime 
Origine  Hospitaliorum,”  by  La  Roulx.  Paris.  1885). 

This  institution  was  naturally  located  in  close  prox¬ 
imity  to  the  most  sacred  places,  which  early  Christian 
traditions  made  such  to  the  pilgrims  who  came  from 
all  over  Western  Europe.  It  was  in  existence  in 
1099.  It  was  made  doubly  necessary  by  not  only  the 
hardships  of  travel,  but  by  the  ill  usage  of  the  na¬ 
tives,  at  a  time  when  the  Holy  City  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  Moslems,  who  demanded  an  entrance  fee  often 
beyond  the  pilgrims’  means.  Thus  subjected  to  in¬ 
dignities  indescribable,  robbed  often  before  their  ar¬ 
rival,  these  misguided  pilgrims  often  died  of  want, 
or  returned  with  their  primary  pious  object  unat- 


140 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


tained.  Had  it  not  been  for  one  Gerard,  the  first  ad¬ 
ministrator  of  the  hospice,  their  hardships  had  been 
even  greater. 

The  buildings  of  the  Order,  at  first  meagre,  were 
finally  enlarged  to  cover  a  square,  nearly  500  ft.  on 
each  side,  with  one  side  on  the  Via  Dolorosa  and 
another  fronting  the  Bazaar,  and  all  a  little  south  of 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  Nearby  were  oth¬ 
er  churches  and  hospices.  This  was  the  arrangement 
before  the  establishment  of  the  kingdom  of  Jerusa¬ 
lem  in  1099.  During  the  next  century  the  Order, 
under  Raymond  du  Puy,  had  enlarged  the  church  of 
St.  John  Eleemon  into  the  conventual  church  of  St. 
John  Baptist,  while  along  the  south  of  the  square 
above  mentioned  ran  an  excellent  building,  the  hos¬ 
pital  of  St.  John.  When  Saladin  recaptured  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  in  1187,  this  church  was  converted  by  the  Turks 
into  a  mad-house,  known  as  the  “Muristan,”  this  be¬ 
ing  finally  ceded  to  Germany  in  1869. 

From  the  new  kingdom  of  Jerusalem  the  Hospi¬ 
tallers  obtained  a  constitution,  and  the  Gerard  above 
mentioned  was  made  their  first  “Master.”  He  was 
succeeded  in  1118  by  du  Puy,  while  Baldwin  II  was 
the  Latin  King  of  Jerusalem.  The  Hospital  had  been 
recognized  by  the  Archbishop  of  Caesarea  in  1112, 
and  had  widely  extended  its  sphere  of  usefulness. 
It  was  King  Baldwin  who  was  anxious  to  stamp  upon 
the  Order  a  military  character,  similar  to  that  confer¬ 
red  upon  the  Order  of  the  Temple  in  1130.  This 
was  natural  since  the  kingdom  was  isolated,  surround- 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


141 

ed  by  fanatic  enemies  and  always  beset  by  and  in 
danger  from  them.  Thus  the  necessities  of  the  times 
and  the  environment  made  it  requisite  that  all  who 
were  able  should  bear  arms,  and  cooperate  for  mu¬ 
tual  defence. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  Order  was  divided 
into  three  divisions,  the  first  in  rank  being  the 
Knights  of  Justice,  each  of  whom  must  be  of  noble 
rank  or  birth,  and  have  received  the  accolade  of 
knighthood  from  secular  authority.  The  second  di¬ 
vision  comprised  the  ecclesiastics,  who  were  later  di¬ 
vided  into  two  grades,  the  Conventual  Chaplains, 
who  were  assigned  to  duty  at  headquarters,  and  the 
Priests  of  Obedience  who  served  other  priories  and 
commanderies  in  various  parts  of  Europe.  The  third 
grade  were  the  Serving  Brothers,  also  divided  into 
the  Servants  at  arms  or  Esquires,  and  the  Servants  at 
office.  The  Servants  at  arms  attended  the  Knights  of 
Justice  as  their  Esquires,  and  might  eventually  be¬ 
come  eligible  to  the  first  division.  The  Servants  at 
office  were  little  if  anything  more  than  menials  or  do¬ 
mestics.  Even  these  latter,  however,  possessed  cer¬ 
tain  privileges  and  emoluments  which  made  admis¬ 
sion  to  this  grade  advantageous  to  men  of  humble  ori¬ 
gin  and  faculties. 

The  dress  of  the  Order  was  a  black  robe  with  cowl, 
having  a  white  linen  cross  of  eight  points  over  the  left 
breast,  and  was  at  first  worn  by  all.  Later,  under 
Pope  Alexander  IV,  the  fighting  knights  wore  their 
white  crosses  upon  a  ground  gules. 


142 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


The  first  recorded  appearance  of  a  body  of  Hos¬ 
pitaller  knights  in  actual  war  was  at  Antioch,  in  1 1 19, 
while  the  complete  military  constitution  of  the  Order 
of  St.  John  was  achieved  in  1128.  During  the  bal¬ 
ance  of  the  existence  of  the  Kingdom  of  Jerusalem 
then,  two  colleges  or  companies  of  military  monastic 
knights  existed,  side  by  side,  in  the  Holy  Land,  the 
“chief  props  of  a  tottering  throne.”  (Bedford). 
Between  these  rival  bodies  arose  in  time  such  jealousy, 
and  within  them  such  intrigues, — aggravated  always 
by  the  animosities  of  the  ordinary  clergy,  who  took 
offense  at  the  patronage  bestowed  upon  the  orders  by 
the  Popes,  aggravated  also  by  similar  difficulties  on 
the  part  of  the  knights  of  the  Teutonic  Order  and 
that  of  St.  Lazarus, — that  the  best  interests  of  the 
kingdom  and  of  the  Church  suffered  as  much  from 
intestine  dangers  as  from  those  arising  from  the  Mos¬ 
lems  surrounding  them.  Nevertheless  it  may  be  said 
that  the  Order  of  the  Hospital  never  lost  sight  of  its 
primary  purposes,  and  never  disgraced  itself  by  the 
treasonable  and  treacherous  dealings,  and  correspond¬ 
ence  with  enemies  which  disgraced  not  a  few  members 
of  other  and  rival  Christian  organizations. 

The  result  of  such  disreputable  actions  lead — as 
ever — to  disunion  and  final  disruption,  and  this  to 
final  capitulation  and  surrender  of  Jerusalem,  in  1 187. 
This  meant  the  abandonment  not  only  of  their  old 
home,  but  of  their  usefulness  there.  The  Saracens 
occupied  their  buildings  and  premises  from  that  time 
till  ruin  overtook  them.  Thus  rudely  compelled  to 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


M3 


emigrate  the  Order  moved  the  same  year  (1187)  t0 
the  town  of  Margat,  where  was  also  a  castle  of  the 
same  name.  But  the  work  in  Jerusalem  had  not  been 
abruptly  discontinued,  since  Sultan  Saladin,  in  evi¬ 
dence  of  his  esteem,  allowed  them  possession  of  their 
hospital  for  another  year,  in  order  that  their  charit¬ 
able  work  should  not  be  abruptly  interrupted,  and 
even  made  them  liberal  donations.  When  during  the 
third  Crusade,  in  which  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion  bore 
so  valiant  a  part,  Ptolemais  was  captured,  it  was  then 
and  there  that  the  Order  established  its  headquarters, 
in  1192,  wherefore  the  town  became  named  St.  Jean 
d’Acre.  Here  they  abode  nearly  a  century. 

Various  other  towns  in  Palestine  held  out  for  a 
time  against  the  Turks,  e.  g.,  Carac,  Margat,  Castel 
Blanco  and  Antioch,  and  in  spite  of  the  intense  rival¬ 
ry  between  the  Orders,  Thierry,  the  Grand  Master  of 
the  Templars,  reported  in  a  letter  to  King  Henry  II, 
that  the  Hospitallers  bore  themselves  even  with  fer¬ 
vor  and  the  greatest  bravery,  and  praised  the  aid  they 
gave  in  the  capture  of  the  Turkish  fleet,  at  Tyre, 
when  seventeen  Christian  galleys  manned  by  friars, 
and  ten  Sicilian  vessels  commanded  by  General  Mar- 
garit,  a  Catalan,  defeated  the  infidels,  and  captured 
their  admiral  and  eight  Emirs,  with  eleven  ships,  the 
rest  being  run  aground,  where  Saladin  later  burned 
them,  to  keep  them  from  falling  into  Christian  hands. 
(Bedford) . 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  however,  the  joint  occu¬ 
pation  of  Acre  with  the  Templars  had  a  bad  effect 


144 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


on  both  Orders,  who  turned  not  only  to  luxury  and 
license,  but  their  swords  against  each  other.  Acre 
was  at  this  time  a  most  cosmopolitan  city;  here 
mingled  at  least  seventeen  different  nationalities  and 
languages,  each  occupying  its  own  part  of  the  city, 
so  that  in  time  extravagance  and  lust  flourished  to  the 
last  degree  of  demoralization.  The  Hospitallers 
were  at  this  time  far  more  wealthy  than  the  Temp¬ 
lars,  who  were  exceedingly  jealous  thereof,  and  both 
at  Margat  and  still  worse  at  Acre  this  jealousy  was 
exhibited  in  many  bloody  affairs.  Weakened  thus  by 
this  intestine  strife  they  were  in  reverse  proportion 
strengthened.  The  Pope  who  had  defended  them  as 
against  the  scathing  censure  of  Emperor  Frederick, 
found  need,  in  1238,  to  accuse  the  knights — alike  of 
both  orders — of  sheltering  loose  women  within  their 
precincts,  of  owning  individual  property,  both  of 
these  in  violation  of  their  vows  of  chastity  and  po¬ 
verty,  and  of  treacherously  assisting  the  enemy.  Yet 
many  bore  witness  to  the  actual  good  they  accom¬ 
plished,  even  at  this  time.  In  1259  Pope  Alexander, 
bewailing  the  lack  of  a  more  distinctive  dress,  permit¬ 
ted  the  decree  that  the  fighting  knights  might  wear 
black  mantles,  while  in  war  they  were  permitted  to 
wear  red  surcoats,  with  a  white  cross. 

Later  it  was  permitted  to  women  to  join  the  Order, 
and  many  ladies  of  high  degree  took  advantage  of 
the  permission,  rivalling  in  religious  zeal  and  in  char¬ 
itable  deeds  the  most  sanctified  of  the  brethren.  As 
the  King  of  Hungary  wrote,  at  one  time,  after  visit- 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


H5 


Tig  some  of  their  houses,  “In  a  word  the  Knights  of 
St.  John  are  employed,  sometimes  like  Mary  in  con¬ 
templation,  and  sometimes  like  Martha  in  action,  and 
this  noble  militia  consecrate  their  days  either  in  their 
infirmaries  or  else  in  engagements  against  the  enemies 
of  the  cross.” 

The  deterioration  of  Acre  was  not  so  great  as  to 
make  cowards  of  our  Knights,  however,  and  with  the 
continued  and  aggressive  siege  laid  by  the  Saracens 
against  that  city  the  Hospitallers  and  the  Templars 
finally  made  common  cause,  each  endeavoring  to  out¬ 
do  the  other  in  deeds  of  bravery  and  daring.  Though 
defeated  again  and  again,  the  Moslem  ranks  were  re¬ 
newed  by  fresh  soldiers,  while  the  militant  and  other 
monks  imprisoned  within  the  city  saw  their  com¬ 
bined  members  steadily  diminish.  At  last  it  remained 
for  John  Villiers,  Grand  Master,  with  his  few  sur¬ 
viving  fighters,  to  carve  their  way  to  their  boats,  leav¬ 
ing  no  combatants  behind  them,  and  then  to  embark  in 
their  galleys  to  seek  a  harbor  of  refuge  in  the  island 
of  Cyprus. 

Cyprus  and  Rhodes.  Settled  in  Cyprus,  the  Knights 
renewed  their  zeal  and  their  resources.  Here  they 
began  to  build  that  fleet  of  galleys  which,  increased 
later  in  Rhodes,  became  most  formidable.  When  they 
and  the  Templars  left  forever  the  Holy  Land  the 
Templars  took  the  position  that  their  vow  to  protect 
the  holy  places  was  now  either  fulfilled  or  at  least 
at  an  end,  and  they  distributed  themselves  among 
their  numerous  preceptories  all  over  Europe,  where 


146 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


they  made  themselves  personae  non  gratae  to  their 
civil  rulers,  because  of  their  own  real  power,  their  ori¬ 
ental  ostentation,  and  their  secularization  and  distaste¬ 
ful  entrance  into  and  interference  with  the  social  and 
political  life  and  customs  of  their  new  environment. 
Things  went  from  bad  to  worse,  public  feeling  was 
more  and  more  aroused,  and  their  extermination  was 
only  a  matter  of  time.  Finally  Pope  Clement  V  and 
King  Phillip  le  Bel  undertook  this  task  with  barbar¬ 
ous  ruthlessness.  Kings,  nobility  and  the  people  joined 
hands  in  the  common  task.  The  Templars  had  ac¬ 
quired  various  properties,  by  capture,  by  bequest,  and 
in  every  lawful  and  unlawful  manner,  which  yielded 
in  the  aggregate  relatively  enormous  revenues,  too 
strong  a  temptation  for  needy  secular  rulers  to  resist. 
The  Pope  had  at  last  to  intervene  in  order  to  prevent 
the  total  secularization  of  all  this  great  spoil,  and  thus 
it  happened  that  no  small  proportion  of  it  was,  after 
its  sequestration,  allotted  to  the  Order  of  St.  John, 
whose  Grand  Masters  and  Knights  had  not  forgotten 
nor  abandoned  their  original  vows  and  purposes,  and 
who  held  that  the  inviolacy  of  their  obligations  re¬ 
quired  their  continuous  residence  in  some  such  ori¬ 
ental  city  as  Rhodes. 

And  here  we  may  part  company,  as  did  they,  only 
quite  peacefully,  with  the  Templar  Knights.  Driven 
from  Europe  they  made  their  last  stand  in  Great 
Britain,  and  of  their  lives  and  deeds  there  we  have  no 
more  readable  nor  interesting  historical  account  than 
Scott  has  given  us  in  Ivanhoe.  Any  further  allusion 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


147 


to  them  here  will  be  most  casual.  They  offer  the  con¬ 
ventional  picture,  only  in  extenso,  of  original  poverty 
and  self-abnegation,  coupled  with  devotion  and  valor, 
changed  to  arrogance,  treason,  abandonment  of  pur¬ 
pose,  unbridled  lawlessness  leading  to  crime  and  cru¬ 
elty,  all  brought  about  because  of  affluence,  acquired 
power,  selfishness,  cupidity  and  every  debasing  human 
weakness.  Small  wonder  then,  that  they  could  be  no 
longer  tolerated  in  Christendom. 

So  turn  we  again  to  the  Hospitallers,  now  made 
rich  and  powerful  at  the  expense  of  their  old  rivals 
and  at  last  enemies.  It  had  soon  been  made  evident 
that  Cyprus  did  not  meet  their  wants  and  necessities. 
Its  king  was  not  over  friendly,  and  they  sought  furth¬ 
er.  Their  gaze  fixed  on  the  island  of  Rhodes,  which 
possessed  a  fertile  soil,  a  city  with  an  excellent  har¬ 
bor,  not  too  far  from  the  main  land,  i.  e.  not  too  iso¬ 
lated,  which  was  under  the — by  that  time  merely 
nominal — suzerainty  of  the  Emperor  of  the  Eastern 
or  Greek  empire.  After  several  futile  efforts  they  at 
last,  in  1310,  under  the  twenty- fourth  Grand  Master 
Villaret,  captured  the  island,  where  under  their  cease¬ 
less  energy  both  hospitals  and  forts  were  built.  To 
Rhodes  were  brought  also  Christian  refugees  from 
the  various  Turkish  provinces,  and  thus  their  num¬ 
bers  were  rapidly  strengthened.  Their  fleet,  already 
begun  (vide  supra )  was  greatly  increased,  and  with 
it  they  had  many  a  conflict  with  the  Turkish  corsairs, 
whose  inroads  they  practically  checked. 

About  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century 


148 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


changes  had  been  made  in  the  Order,  which  was  now 
divided  into  Langues,  or  arranged  according  to  na¬ 
tionalities,  yet  without  materially  altering  the  original 
division  into  the  three  classes  (Knights,  Chaplains 
and  Serving  Brothers).  In  this  way  the  Order  was 
apportioned  between  seven  nations  or  languages, 
Provence,  Auvergne,  France,  Italy,  Aragon,  England 
and  Germany.  Finally  under  pressure  from  Spain 
the  Langue  of  Aragon  was  divided  into  two,  Aragon 
and  Castile,  the  latter  including  Portugal.  The  vari¬ 
ous  dignities  and  offices  were  divided  among  these 
langues,  whose  principals  became  a  kind  of  Privy 
Council  to  the  Grand  Master,  and  were  known  as 
Conventual  Bailiffs.  They  were  given  different  names 
in  each  country;  thus  the  Grand  Commander  of  the 
English  langue  was  known  as  the  Turcopolier,  of 
France  the  Grand  Hospitaller,  of  Italy  the  Admiral, 
etc.  As  the  new  fortifications  arose  around  the  city 
of  Rhodes,  each  was  placed  in  charge  of  one  of  these 
langues  or  divisions,  while  each  erected  quarters  for 
its  own  men.  It  did  not  follow,  however,  that  every 
member  of  each  langue  came  from  the  country  which 
it  represented.  While  Scotland  was  an  independent 
kingdom  it  contributed  to  the  Turcopolier,  while 
many  Scotchmen  belonged  to  the  French  or  even  the 
other  langues.  At  this  time  the  inhabitants  of  the 
City  of  Rhodes  consisted  largely  of  Christian  refu¬ 
gees,  who  owed  their  security,  even  their  lives,  to  the 
fact  that  the  Knights  Hospitaller  still  adhered  to 
their  primary  objects,  the  liberation  of  the  captive 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


149 


and  giving  assistance  to  the  sick  and  distressed.  This 
they  afforded  through  their  fleet  and  their  hospices. 
When  Smyrna  nearly  fell  into  the  hands  of  Timour 
the  Tartar,  about  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  cen¬ 
tury,  the  Order  strengthened  their  harbor  by  erecting 
a  new  fort,  which  they  named  Budrum  (corrupted 
from  Petros-a  Rock),  where  any  Christian  escaping 
from  slavery  found  shelter.  Here  was  also  kept  a  re¬ 
markable  breed  of  dogs,  who  were  trained  not  only  as 
watch  dogs  but  to  render  services  similar  to  those 
afforded  by  the  Alpine  dogs  of  St.  Bernard. 

As  time  went  on  the  Sultans  became  more  and 
more  jealous  of  the  naval  power  possessed  by  the  Or¬ 
der.  With  the  fall  of  the  Eastern  Empire  and  the 
final  retaking  of  Constantinople  by  Mahomet  II,  in 
14 53  (See  “Prince  of  India”),  it  was  made  evident 
that  danger  to  the  Order  from  this  direction  was  rap¬ 
idly  increasing.  This  became  so  urgent  that  in 
1470,  after  Mahomet  had  taken  the  island  of  Ne- 
gropont,  the  Grand  Master  commanded  that  all  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  Order  should  repair  at  once  to  Rhodes. 
In  1476  d’Aubusson  began  the  most  active  measures 
for  the  defense  of  the  place,  and  thus  was  ready  for 
the  attack,  in  May,  1480,  when  80,000  men  in  160 
ships,  landed  on  the  island  coast.  In  this  siege  no 
small  part  was  played  by  renegade  traitors,  the  most 
prominent  being  one  George  Frapant,  a  German, 
whom  the  Grand  Master  finally  hung  in  July.  In 
the  last  sorties  which  terminated  this  siege  deeds  of 
the  greatest  bravery  were  performed ;  yet  here  we  can 


150 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


only  commemorate  the  fact  that  the  Turks  were  sum¬ 
marily  defeated,  leaving  3,500  corpses  on  the  ground 
after  the  last  decisive  attack.  The  losses  of  the  be¬ 
sieged  were  small  as  compared  with  those  suffered  by 
the  Turks. 

Later  in  the  same  year  the  island  suffered  from  a 
severe  earthquake.  Mahomet  died  not  long  after  this, 
was  succeeded  by  his  son  Bo-jazet  who  made  truce 
with  the  Order,  presenting  them  with  a  relic  of  sup¬ 
posedly  inestimable  value,  namely  the  hand  of  St. 
John,  which  the  Turks  had  taken  at  Constantinople. 

Years  of  comparative  quietude  succeeded  until  in 
the  following  century,  in  1522,  Solyman  the  Mag¬ 
nificent  landed  upon  the  island  in  July,  with  100,000 
soldiers  and  60,000  pioneers.  «  Again  ensued  all  the 
horrors  of  a  siege.  The  defenders  did  their  part  so 
bravely  that  the  Sultan  publicly  disgraced  his  gen¬ 
erals.  But  the  inevitable  famine  wrought  consequent 
disaffection  on  the  part  of  the  native  population,  who 
clamored  for  capitulation,  and  sought  treasonable 
terms  therefor,  because  of  which  one  of  the  most 
prominent  of  them  was  tried,  found  guilty  and  exe¬ 
cuted.  Finally  under  stress  of  circumstances  no 
longer  endurable  Grand  Master  Adam  agreed  to  hon¬ 
orable  surrender,  and  on  the  first  of  January,  1523, 
the  Hospitaller  Knights  relinquished  the  island,  the 
Sultan  himself  speaking  in  terms  of  extravagant  praise 
of  their  heroism,  while  at  the  same  time  he  scath¬ 
ingly  censured  the  Christian  monarchs  of  Europe 
who  had  failed  to  come  to  their  relief.  Thus  after 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN  15 1 

two  hundred  and  twenty  years  of  occupation  and  rule 
of  the  island  of  Rhodes,  some  5,000  Knights  and  oth¬ 
er  members  of  the  Order,  and  natives,  left  it  to  take 
abode  for  a  short  time  in  their  Priory  at  Messina. 
Driven  from  here  by  plague,  they  moved  on  to  Viter¬ 
bo,  while  their  Grand  Master  travelled  in  search  of  a 
new  home. 

Malta.  Malta  had  been  early  proposed  for  this 
purpose,  and  offered  by  Charles  V,  while  many  wishes 
turned  to  the  city  of  Modon,  in  Greece.  After  seven 
years  of  wandering  and  indecision  Grand  Master 
L’Isle  Adam  accepted  Malta  as  the  best  solution  of 
the  difficulty.  Thither  the  Order  now  removed,  and 
there  Adam  died  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  erected 
by  the  Norman  Count  Roger  of  Sicily,  still  active  in 
improving  its  existing  defences.  In  1 555  the  Order 
lost  nearly  all  of  its  fleet  in  consequence  of  a  violent 
hurricane,  which  accident  for  a  while  laid  the  island 
open  to  piratical  attacks,  especially  of  a  corsair  named 
Dragut;  but  he  did  little  damage,  save  that  with  the 
knowledge  of  the  island  and  its  defences  thus  gained 
he  persuaded  Solyman  to  undertake  another  attempt 
to  crush  the  Order,  the  latter  being  justly  furious  be¬ 
cause  some  galleys  belonging  to  the  Order  had  cap¬ 
tured  a  ship  that  happened  to  be  loaded  with  rich 
valuables  belonging  to  the  ladies  of  his  harem.  There¬ 
fore  war  was  again  declared  in  1565. 

The  Turkish  fleet  was  made  up  of  130  galleys  with 
50  smaller  boats,  and  carried  the  Janissaries  and  34,- 
000  other  soldiers,  against  whom  the  Grand  Master 


152 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


could  only  oppose  some  9,000  men, 700  of  whom, how¬ 
ever,  were  desperate  men,  released  from  the  galleys 
of  the  enemy,  and  eager  for  vengeance.  On  May 
twenty-fourth  the  siege  of  St.  Elmo  was  in  reality  be¬ 
gun  by  a  fierce  bombardment,  the  walls  being  soon 
battered,  and  the  garrison  forced  to  take  shelter  in 
excavations  made  in  the  solid  rock.  And  now  the 
besiegers’  force  was  augmented  by  the  arrival  of 
Dragut,  in  those  days  the  dreaded  corsair  of  the  sea, 
who  came  with  thirteen  more  ships  and  1,500  more 
men.  June  thirteenth  saw  a  desperate  conflict  when, 
after  six  hours  of  fierce  fighting  and  the  loss  of  only 
300  men,  the  besiegers  were  repulsed.  Soon  after  this 
Dragut  was  killed.  Again  on  June  twenty-third  anoth¬ 
er  general  attack  was  repulsed,  though  the  garrison 
was  thereby  reduced  to  60  men.  Even  this  small 
force,  many  crippled  and  maimed,  repulsed  the  first 
onslaught  of  the  Turks,  but  had  later  to  sell  their  lives 
as  dearly  as  they  could. 

The  Turkish  general  Mustapha  took  barbarous  re¬ 
venge,  even  on  the  corpses  of  the  Knights  which  he 
decapitated  and  then  tied  to  planks  that  they  might 
float  past  St.  Angelo.  La  Vallette  retaliated  by  be¬ 
heading  some  of  his  captives  and  firing  their  heads 
at  the  Turks  from  his  cannon. 

At  this  juncture  the  garrison  was  reinforced  by  the 
arrival  of  700  men  and  42  Knights  from  Sicily.  Re¬ 
fusing  all  opportunities  to  surrender  and  all  parley  un¬ 
der  flags  of  truce,  Grand  Master  La  Vallette  built 
new  defences  and  strengthened  the  old,  in  spite  of  a 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


i53 

fierce  July  sun.  Meanwhile  the  Turks,  also  rein¬ 
forced,  prepared  for  still  more  desperate  sorties,  se¬ 
lecting  for  the  land  attack  men  who  knew  not  how  to 
swim,  in  order  that  they  might  fight  the  more  fierce¬ 
ly,  and  drawing  off  the  boats  as  soon  as  their  loads 
were  emptied,  so  that  no  retreat  could  be  possible. 
One  thousand  Janissaries  were  embarked  in  ten  large 
barges,  but  nine  of  these  were  sunk  by  the  artillery 
fire  from  the  forts.  On  the  other  side  of  the  defences 
a  large  attacking  column  was  completely  routed.  The 
loss  to  the  Turks  this  day  was  3,000  men,  that  of  the 
garrison  250. 

And  so  the  siege  went  on;  attack  after  attack,  with 
but  small  success  to  the  investing  army.  But  the 
heroic  defenders  suffered  increasingly  under  the  con¬ 
stant  strain,  and  both  armies  were  exhausted,  the 
Turks  losing  800  men  from  dysentery  alone.  To 
such  an  extent  was  this  true  that  when  the  Turkish 
officers  drove  their  soldiers  to  the  charge  by  blows  of 
their  own  swords,  it  was  but  necessary  to  cut  down 
those  who  led  the  charges,  when  the  rest  would  turn 
and  fly. 

And  now  came  other  long  expected  reinforcements 
from  Sicily,  when  a  fleet  landed  8,500  men  and  re¬ 
turned  for  4,000  more.  Being  now  quite  unequal  to 
the  continuation  of  the  siege  the  Turks  evacuated  all 
the  ground  they  had  gained,  and  finally  made  a  hasty 
and  complete  flight,  harassed  in  every  way,  in  their 
endeavors  to  escape,  by  the  now  victorious  garrison. 

The  losses  during  the  period  of  siege,  with  its  nu- 


154  KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 

merous  engagements,  were  estimated  at  some  30,000 
Turks,  and  8,000  men  and  260  Knights  of  the  Or¬ 
der.  Is  it  strange  that  by  contributions  from  all  over 
Christian  Europe  there  was  soon  built  up  a  town  bear¬ 
ing  the  name  of  Valetta,  thus  commemorating  the 
heroism  and  military  prowess  of  the  Order’s  Grand 
Master  La  Valette,  as  well  as  the  “glorious  issue”  of 
the  struggle  for  Malta,  and  the  confirmation  of  the 
Order  as  a  sovereign  independent  community? 

Thus  secured  from  further  probable  struggle  this 
city  of  Valetta  acquired  a  certain  degree  of  glory, 
later  even  of  magnificence.  From  all  parts  of  Europe, 
wherever  any  commandery  of  the  Order  was  main¬ 
tained,  was  paid  tribute  to  the  Grand  Master,  as  may 
be  adjudged  even  to-day,  long  after  French  rapacity 
had  robbed  the  city  of  many  of  its  treasures.  Indi¬ 
vidual  Knights  vied  with  each  other  in  their  gifts, 
and  palaces  arose  wherein  were  received  the  envoys 
and  even  ambassadors  of  foreign  courts.  The  fleet 
was  constantly  busied  in  clearing  the  Mediterranean 
of  Moslem  and  other  pirates,  and  many  Christians 
were  released  from  the  galleys  in  which  they  had  been 
chained  to  the  oars. 

In  this  restoration  the  English  langue  took  a  rath¬ 
er  small  part,  and  their  officers  and  members  had  of¬ 
ten  to  be  rebuked  or  punished  for  insubordination  or 
worse  crimes.  The  Reformation  in  England  inter¬ 
fered,  and  furnished  some  reason  for  their  diminish¬ 
ing  zeal.  The  galleys  of  the  Order  became  more  and 
more  like  pleasure  boats,  and  many  of  their  cruises 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


155 


were  in  effect  pleasure  excursions.  Later  in  their  de¬ 
cadence  their  adventures  became  more  like  piratical 
incursions,  until,  under  letters  of  marque  issued  by  a 
decadent  Admiralty,  the  Malta  privateer  was  equiv¬ 
alent  to  the  pirate.  (Maroyat).  These  facts  were 
scarcely  offset  by  that  other,  that  the  last  fleet  of  the 
Order,  which  left  Valetta  in  1783,  was  sent  to  the 
relief  of  earthquake  sufferers  in  Sicily. 

With  regard  to  their  activities  in  the  matter  of  suc¬ 
coring  the  sick  let  it  be  noted  that  the  Knights  found 
on  their  arrival  at  Malta  a  hospital  or  hospice  al¬ 
ready  existing.  In  the  buildings  of  a  nunnery  still 
standing  may  be  seen  the  gateway  of  their  own  first 
hospital.  In  1575  they  erected  one  much  larger, 
which  had  a  passageway  connected  with  the  water¬ 
front,  so  that  patients  could  be  brought  directly  from 
the  ships.  This  building  in  some  part  still  remains  in 
use  as  a  military  hospital.  Its  great  ward  is  500  feet 
in  length,  and  30  feet  high,  divided  by  partitions  1 5 
feet  in  height.  In  its  best  days  patients  were  served 
from  silver  utensils.  It  was  under  the  charge  of  the 
Regent  of  the  French  Knights,  who  had  as  his  staff 
five  doctors  and  three  apothecaries.  Other  knights 
and  servants  acted  as  male  nurses.  The  knights  were 
luxuriously  cared  for,  and  1 50  beds  were  always  in 
reserve  for  those  returning  from  expeditions  who 
might  need  them. 

In  1796,  only  a  year  before  the  disintegration  of 
the  Order  began,  the  patients  numbered  from  350  to 
400.  There  existed  also  a  hospital  for  women,  with 


156 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


230  beds,  and  a  foundling  hospital  where  some  fifty 
waifs  were  sheltered. 

A  curious  bit  of  history  connecting  the  middle  ages 
with  the  more  recent  past  relates  to  the  hospital  inter¬ 
ests  of  the  Order.  The  nobles  of  Dauphigny  had 
founded  a  fraternity  of  Hospitallers  for  the  relief  of 
sufferers  from  St.  Anthony’s  fire  (erysipelas),  which 
was  erected  into  the  regular  Antoine  order  in  1218. 
About  550  years  later,  or  to  be  exact  in  1777,  a  com¬ 
pact  was  made  by  which  the  Order  of  St.  John  took 
over  their  property,  under  certain  conditions,  which 
involved,  among  other  considerations,  a  larger  ex¬ 
penditure.  The  Antonine  estates,  in  France  and  Sa¬ 
voy,  were  confiscated  in  1792,  thus  entailing  a  tre¬ 
mendous  loss  to  the  Order,  so  great,  in  fact  that  the 
Valetta  treasury  became  insolvent.  (Bedford).  From 
this  time  we  may  date  the  rapid  downfall  of  the  Or¬ 
der.  Malcontents  and  traitors  gained  the  suprem¬ 
acy,  and  in  1798,  after  treacherous  negotiations,  Na¬ 
poleon  landed  part  of  his  army  in  Malta,  and  Valetta 
surrendered. 

Thus,  as  Bartlett  says,  “ignominiously  came  to  a 
close,  on  June  12th,  1798,  the  once  illustrious  Order 
of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  having  subsisted  for  more 
than  700  years.” 

At  this  time  it  consisted  of  328  enrolled  knights, 
and  a  military  force  of  some  7,000  men. 

Napoleon  expressed  his  surprise  at  the  strength  of 
the  fortifications,  furnished  them  with  one  thousand 
cannon,  left  a  garrison  of  3,000  men,  took  with  him 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


157 


the  disciplined  soldiers  he  found  there,  rifled  the  is¬ 
land  of  its  treasures,  its  art  work  and  its  bullion,  and 
sailed  for  Egypt.  Several  of  the  traitor  knights  were 
put  to  death  by  the  infuriated  populace,  whose  anger 
was  not  appeased  by  Nelson’s  victory  at  Aboukir — 
the  battle  of  the  Nile — but  took  form  in  open  insur¬ 
rection.  The  French  garrison  finally  took  refuge  in 
the  old  fortifications,  where  they  withstood  for  two 
years  a  siege  by  the  combined  insurgents  and  an  Eng¬ 
lish  fleet.  Finally  reduced  by  famine  and  disease  they 
capitulated  to  the  English  forces  under  Gen.  Pigot. 
The  latter  then  selected  Capt.  Sir  Alexander  Ball, 
Nelson’s  representative,  Governor  of  the  Island.  At 
the  Peace  of  Amiens  the  effort  was  made  to  restore 
the  Order  as  ruling  authority,  under  the  protectorate 
of  the  Great  Powers,  but  the  Maltese  themselves  ob¬ 
jected  so  vehemently  that  after  no  small  amount  of 
trouble  and  dispute  the  inhabitants  of  the  island  elect¬ 
ed  to  place  themselves  under  the  sovereignty  of  Great 
Britain,  an  arrangement  finally  and  definitely  con¬ 
firmed  at  the  Congress  of  Vienna  in  1814. 

Thus  disappeared  from  history  one  of  the  most  in¬ 
teresting  and  longest  enduring  institutions  recorded  in 
its  pages,  and  certainly  the  most  long-lived  of  any  of 
its  kind.  I  say  disappeared,  meaning  thereby  only  to 
indicate  its  disruption,  as  it  were  into  fragments,  its 
primary  purpose,  i.  e.  aid  to  the  needy,  being  kept  ever 
in  view  by  some,  while  others  preferring  the  life  of  a 
soldier,  took  service  under  various  rulers  or  military 
leaders.  The  traitors  who  were  responsible  for  sur- 


158 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


render  to  Napoleon  fared  badly  according  to  their 
deserts,  though  it  does  not  appear  that  any  of  them 
were  hung.  In  the  migration  England  seemed  to  at¬ 
tract  many,  perhaps  the  majority  of  those  who  were 
still  inclined  to  good  deeds.  The  title  of  Grand  Mas¬ 
ter  was  still  continued,  under  some  pretension  to  per¬ 
petuation  of  the  Order.  In  Russia  the  Czar  Alexan- 
ander,  in  1801,  upon  the  death  of  his  predecessor 
Paul,  announced  himself  a  Protector  of  the  Order, 
and  designated  Count  Soltikoff  to  exercise  the  func¬ 
tions  of  the  Grand  Master. 

Thus  dismembered,  disunited  and  scattered,  the 
fragmentary  langues  of  the  Order  underwent,  on 
their  way  to  final  dissolution,  various  vicissitudes, 
through  which  they  cannot  here  be  followed.  Com¬ 
plete  extinguishment  was  the  eventual  fate  of  most  of 
them.  I  shall  only  concern  myself  now  with  that  of 
the  English  langue,  and  its  partial  revival  in  1830. 

Rev.  Dr.  Peat,  chaplain  to  George  IV,  was  one  of 
those  to  whom  the  remnants  of  the  English  langue 
appealed,  with  the  result  that  in  1827  certain  notable 
English  gentry,  of  eminent  attainments,  undertook  to 
revive  the  Order  in  England,  only  under  quite  dif¬ 
ferent  conditions  from  those  previously  obtaining.  In 
1831  Dr.  Peat  was  invested  with  the  authority  and 
functions  of  Grand  Prior.  It  will  be  at  once  seen 
how  the  matter  of  religious  belief  now  separated  the 
English  Order  from  all  the  survivors  of  the  previous 
regime,  and  why  the  last  ties  were  severed. 

Under  the  new  regime  members  of  the  Order  drop- 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


H9 


ped  all  pretense  of  playing  a  military  role;  one  may 
read  thereafter  of  real  hospital  activity.  The  Life 
Boat  movement  and  ambulance  work  were  gradually 
incorporated  into  their  plans  and  scope.  When  First 
Aid  to  the  Injured  began  to  be  publicly  taught  public 
and  general  interest  was  quickly  aroused,  and  the  en¬ 
ergetic  cooperation  of  eminent  men  was  assured.  In 
other  words  the  Order  gradually  took  up  just  that 
class  of  work  which  is  now  done  under  the  Red  Cross. 
Sir  Edward  Lechmere  established,  in  1867,  a  com- 
mandery  of  the  Order  in  one  of  his  castles,  and  in 
1874  was  instrumental  in  the  acquisition  of  the  St. 
John  Gate,  which  still  stands,  an  example  of  Tudor 
architecture  as  also  a  well  preserved  monumental 
relic  of  the  time,  beginning  about  1 180,  when  the  Or¬ 
der  had  founded  a  hospital  in  Clerkenwell,  while  the 
ladies  of  the  order  were  housed  in  Bucland,  in  Somer¬ 
setshire.  The  old  Priory  of  the  Order  in  Clerken¬ 
well  was  practically  destroyed  in  1381,  by  the  mob 
led  by  Jack  Straw,  in  an  insurrection  which  had,  along 
with  other  results,  as  an  incident,  the  beheading  of  Sir 
Robert  Hales,  the  Prior  of  the  Order.  In  the  slow 
process  of  rebuilding  the  present  Gate  was  not  com¬ 
pleted  till  1504.  On  the  North  and  South  fronts 
remain  projecting  towers,  while  in  the  Western  tower 
a  spiral  stair  case  is  still  in  use.  Bedford’s  work, 
from  which  I  have  drawn  heavily,  gives  excellent  pic¬ 
tures  of  the  Gate  as  it  appears  to-day,  and  of  the  old 
priory  restored. 

Colonel  Duncan,  also,  deserves  honorable  mention 


160  KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 

in  this  connection;  he  became  Director  of  the  Am¬ 
bulance  Movement  in  1875.  Finally  we  have  to 
record  here  that  under  a  new  Charter,  granted  in 
1888,  the  then  Prince  of  Wales,  later  King  Edward, 
became  the  Grand  Prior.  Therefore  the  Order  of 
the  Hospital,  in  England  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem 
is,  in  fact,  the  legitimate  successor — one  might  say 
the  lineal  descendant — of  the  old  Order  of  Knights 
Hospitaller,  though  it  is  to-day  a  secular  and  volun¬ 
tary  society,  keeping  to  the  traditions  of  the  past,  no 
longer  military  nor  militant,  save  as  it  fights  disease 
and  best  of  all  teaches  others  how  to  do  the  same. 
To  follow  it  further  is  no  longer  necessary.  Its  work 
is  essentially  that  of  the  Red  Cross.  It  has,  for  in¬ 
stance,  a  depot  at  old  St.  John’s  Gate,  whence  all  the 
material  required  in  teaching  and  illustrating  as  well 
as  rendering  first  aid  is  issued.  Its  work  was  begun 
with  a  two-wheeled  litter,  an  old  Esmarch  triangular 
bandage  from  Germany,  and  a  stretcher  from  France. 
Now  it  distributes  all  these  things  throughout  the 
British  Empire.  Now,  too,  it  maintains  ambulances 
all  over  the  city  of  London,  which  do  for  their  own 
hospitals  just  what  each  of  our  hospitals  at  home  has 
to  do  for  itself.  The  German  “Samariter-Verein” 
is  virtually  a  Chapter  of  the  English  Order  in  its  re¬ 
vivified  form.  In  1883  a  branch  of  the  Order  was 
organized  in  India,  where  among  others  the  native 
police  are  instructed  in  “First  Aid.”  In  1882,  by  a 
Firman  of  the  Turkish  Sultan,  an  Ophthalmic  Hos¬ 
pital  was  opened,  under  the  auspices  of  the  Order,  in 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


161 


Jerusalem.  Only  those  who  have  travelled  in  the 
East  can  appreciate  what  this  means  to  the  poor, 
where  squalor  vies  with  ignorance,  and,  as  in  Egypt 
though  not  so  universally,  both  conspire  to  the  ruin  of 
that  greatest  of  all  blessings — eyesight. 

But  I  will  not  delay  to  write  further  of  what  the 
Ambulance  Brigade  of  London,  and  its  affiliated 
corps,  have  accomplished  in  many  parts  of  the  world; 
in  South  Africa,  for  example,  it  works  under  the  gen¬ 
eral  supervision  of  the  Order  of  St.  John,  as  it  now 
exists  in  London.  It  does  everything  that  in  our 
country  is  accomplished  by  the  Red  Cross  for  the  gen¬ 
eral  public,  and  by  the  Hospital  Corps  and  their  Med¬ 
ical  Officers  for  our  Army  and  Navy.  Over  the  graves 
of  eleven  members  of  the  brigade,  who  died  at  their 
posts  in  South  Africa,  in  St.  Paul’s,  London,  not  far 
from  the  crypts  where  lie  the  remains  of  Nelson  and 
Wellington,  has  been  erected  a  monument  to  their 
memory.  Another  bearing  among  other  inscriptions 
this  beautiful  scriptural  quotation: — “Greater  love 
hath  no  man  than  this,  that  he  lay  down  his  life  for 
his  friends, ’’was  uneviled  by  His  Royal  Highness,  act¬ 
ing  as  Grand  Prior,  in  St.  John’s  Church,  Clerken- 
well,  June  nth,  1902.  Fifteen  hundred  men  enrolled 
in  the  Order  had  left  that  church  before  their  de¬ 
parture  for  the  Front,  and  of  these  about  seventy 
sacrificed  their  lives  to  this  sort  of  duty.  Do  not  the 
dead  deserve  all  praise  and  respect,  and  the  survivors 
all  commendation? 

A  few  years  ago  my  friend  Sir  George  Beatson, 


162 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN 


surgeon  to  the  Royal  Infirmary  in  Glasgow,  published 
a  little  monograph — “The  Knights  Hospitallers  in 
Scotland  and  their  Priory  at  Torphichen”  (Printed 
by  Hedderwick  and  Sons,  Glasgow,) — which  aroused 
my  interest  sufficiently  to  prompt  a  visit  to  this,  the 
last  home  of  the  old  Order  in  that  part  of  the  world. 
The  little  village  Torphichen  lies  about  midway  be¬ 
tween  Glasgow  and  Edinburgh,  and  three  miles  south 
from  the  town  of  Llinlithgow.  Here  had  been  found¬ 
ed,  in  1124,  one  of  the  great  Priories  or  Preceptories 
under  control  of  the  English  langne.  Here  they  set¬ 
tled  in  a  magnificent  and  fertile  area,  the  Grampian 
hills  to  their  north;  to  their  west  could  be  seen  the 
snow-capped  top  of  what  is  now  known  as  Ben  Lo¬ 
mond.  By  donation,  by  cultivation  of  the  arable 
soil,  and  by  wise  management  of  their  resources,  they 
prospered  greatly,  from  the  worldly  point  of  view. 
Here  they  erected  that  building,  a  part  of  which  still 
exists,  and  which  makes  a  picturesque  ruin  which  is 
not  yet  a  scene  of  desolation. 

The  members  of  the  Order  took,  here  as  elsewhere, 
the  view  that  the  best  way  to  serve  God  was  by  re¬ 
maining  in  it  and  working,  not  by  fleeing  from  it 
into  lazy,  selfish  and  profitless  solitude  as  did  too 
many  of  the  monks. 

In  common  with  other  monasteries  the  Torphichen 
Preceptory  possessed  the  Right  of  Sanctuary,  and  in 
its  churchyard  still  stands  the  short  stone  pillar,  carved 
whh  a  Maltese  cross  on  its  upper  surface,  which 
meant  that  within  a  mile  in  every  direction  therefrom 


KNIGHTS  OF  ST.  JOHN  163 

all  those  charged  with  any  crime,  save  murder  only, 
might  find  temporary  protection. 

Here  for  four  hundred  years,  and  until  the  Refor¬ 
mation  upset  everything,  the  Hospitallers  carried  on 
their  affairs.  In  1560  their  last  Preceptor  or  Grand 
Prior  made  over  to  the  Crown  all  their  properties  and 
effects.  The  Crown  in  return  made  these  possessions 
a  temporal  Barony,  carrying  with  it  the  title  of  Lord 
of  Torphichen.  From  this  time  the  property  began 
to  suffer — from  time,  storm,  vandalism  of  the  people 
and  neglect.  Still  the  present  Lord  Torphichen  has 
proven  himself  a  better  guardian  than  did  some  of  his 
predecessors.  A  parish  church  has  been  built,  partly 
upon  the  sight  of  the  old  structure,  partly  into  it.  Dr. 
Beatson  has  urged  that  a  combination  between  the 
present  Order  of  St.  John,  in  London,  and  the  St.  An¬ 
drew’s  Ambulance  Association  might  be  effected 
which  might  work  to  the  benefit  of  both,  by  reviving 
some  of  the  work  done  here  in  days  gone  by. 

I  have  ventured  this  brief  reference  to  Torphichen, 
partly  because  of  my  interest  in  the  place  itself,  asso¬ 
ciated  with  my  visit  there,  and  partly  because  every 
such  visit  to  the  monuments  of  past  grandeur  and  use¬ 
fulness  should  strengthen  our  interest  and  zeal  in 
what  man  is  accomplishing  to-day,  and  should  help 
link  together  the  Past  and  the  Present  in  a  manner 
not  merely  fascinating  but  inspirational,  and  keep  us 
from  forgetting  that  motto  of  the  Order, 

“Pro  utilitate  Hominum” 

For  the  Welfare  of  Mankind. 


VII 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 

THE  Renaissance  was  the  fourth  of  the  great 
events  in  the  history  of  the  Christian  Era; 
the  first  being  the  decline  of  Rome,  the 
second  the  introduction  of  the  Christian 
cult,  and  the  third,  the  intrusion  into  Southern  Eu¬ 
rope  of  the  Teutonic  and  Slavonic  tribes.  With  none 
of  these  however,  save  the  fourth,  is  this  paper  pri¬ 
marily  concerned,  and  not  even  with  the  fourth  save 
indirectly,  though  it  deals  with  a  special  feature  of 
it.  Protestants  and  Catholics  alike  impeded  progress 
and  the  self-evolution  of  reason  in  every  possible  way. 
Italy  gave  the  world  the  Roman  Republic,  then  the 
Roman  Empire  and  finally  the  Roman  Church;  after 
that  arose  a  new  storm  centre  in  the  North  which 
swept  toward  the  Mediterranean.  The  Teutons 
effaced  the  Western  Empire,  adopted  Christianity,  and 
completely  modified  what  remained  of  Latin  civiliza¬ 
tion.  Then  the  Roman  Bishops  separated  the  Latin 
from  the  Greek  Church,  and  under  the  captious  title 
of  The  Holy  Roman  Empire  bound  Western  Eu¬ 
rope  into  what  has  been  called  a  “cohesive  whole.” 
While  Romans  and  Teutons  never  actually  blended 
homogeneously,  they  had  yet  a  common  bond  of 
union.  When  this  coalition  was  for  a  time  freed  from 
both  Papacy  and  Empire — then  began  intellectual  ac- 

164 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


165 

tivity  and  independence  of  thought,  taking  form  in 
Italy  as  the  Renaissance;  in  Germany  as  the  Refor- 
mtaion.  In  the  South  it  was  known  as  the  Revival  of 
Learning.  It  furnished  a  lux  a  non  lucendo.  Italy 
gave  freedom  rather  to  the  mind,  Germany  rather  to 
the  soul.  Toward  the  South  men  still  took  refuge  be¬ 
hind  that  form  of  modified  paganism  which  became 
Catholicism.  In  the  North  they  attained  a  more  com¬ 
plete  emancipation  because  of  their  violent  opposition 
to  the  Papacy  and  all  that  went  with  it. 

In  the  long  run  both  attained  the  same  result,  i.  e., 
liberation  of  the  mind  from  artificial  impediments  and 
fetters,  though  they  of  the  North  achieved  it  in  its 
full  extent  far  earlier.  (I  am  speaking  of  course, 
relatively;  men’s  minds  are  far  from  free  even  to¬ 
day,  but  the  state  we  have  reached  is  a  great  advance 
upon  that  of  Bruno’s  time).  The  Reformation  led 
men  to  be  far  more  outspoken  than  they  dared  be  in 
the  South;  the  free  thinkers  of  Italy  were  still  con¬ 
tent  to  do  homage  to  a  thoroughly  corrupt  Papal 
hierarchy.  As  critics  and  warriors  Luther  and  Cal¬ 
vin  rank  as  liberators  of  the  human  mind,  but  later, 
as  founders  of  mutually  hostile  sects,  they  only  retard¬ 
ed  civilization,  and  the  churches  they  founded  are  to¬ 
day  as  stagnant  pools. 

In  1548,  in  the  midst  of  this  stormy  period  in 
Italian  history  Bruno  was  born,  in  the  little  village 
of  Nola,  not  far  from  Naples,  whence  Vesuvius  was 
visible  in  the  picturesque  distance.  His  father  was  a 
soldier,  his  mother  of  very  humble  origin.  Of  his 


1 66 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


family  history  nothing  is  known ;  little  explanation  is 
thus  afforded,  by  the  doctrine  of  heredity,  for  the 
marvelous  mental  faculties  which  he  subsequently  dis¬ 
played.  Nevertheless  his  father  w^as  a  man  of  some 
culture,  at  least,  for  he  was  a  friend  of  Tansillo,  a 
poet,  under  whose  influence  the  growing  boy  subse¬ 
quently  came.  Bruno  has  told  us  himself  how  one 
Savolino  (probably  an  uncle)  annually  confessed  his 
sins  to  his  Cure,  of  which  “though  many  and  great” 
his  boon  companion  readily  absolved  him.  But  only 
once  was  full  confession  necessary;  each  subsequent 
year  Savolino  wTould  say:  “Padre  mio,  the  sins  of  a 
year — to-day, — you  may  know  them;”  to  which  the 
Cure  would  reply  “son,  thou  knowest  the  absolution  of 
one  year  ago; — go  in  peace,  and  sin  no  more.” 

In  those  days  as  in  many  others  superstition  was 
everywhere  rife  and  effective.  Its  influence  must  not 
be  disregarded  as  one  studies  the  formation  of  Bru¬ 
no’s  character. 

When  he  was  about  eleven  years  old  Bruno  was 
sent  to  Naples  to  be  taught  logic,  dialectics  and  hu¬ 
manities.  When  fifteen  he  entered  the  Dominican 
Monastery  in  Naples,  and  assumed  the  clerical  habit, 
of  that  order.  Here  he  gave  up  his  baptismal  name 
of  Filippo  and  assumed  that  of  Giordano,  according 
to  the  monastic  custom.  In  1572  he  was  ordained 
priest. 

His  reasons  for  thus  entering  the  Church  are 
scarcely  far  to  seek.  Of  intellectual  bent,  and  studi¬ 
ous  rather  than  martial  in  his  habits  and  inclinations, 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


167 

there  was  but  one  career  open  to  him.  To  be  sure  the 
Dominican  Order  was  the  most  narrow  and  most  big- 
otted  of  all,  as  the  current  punning  expression  “Dom¬ 
ini  canes ”  will  indicate.  Still  it  was  at  that  time  the 
most  powerful,  especially  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples, 
which  was  then  ruled  by  Spain.  The  old  cloister  had 
been  once  the  home  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  whose 
works  Bruno  claimed  at  his  trial  he  had  always  by 
him,  “continually  reading,  studying  and  restudying 
them,  and  holding  them  dear.” 

This  was  the  age  when  efforts  to  put  down  every 
heresy  had  been  redoubled.  The  fanaticism  of  Loy¬ 
ola,  and  the  decision  of  the  Council  of  Trent  “to 
erase  with  fire  and  sword  the  slightest  traces  of  here¬ 
sy,”  made  a  poor  frame  work  in  which  to  place  the 
picture  of  a  liberal  minded  scholar.  Bruno  soon 
learned  this  at  his  cost.  Even  during  his  novitiate 
he  was  accused  of  giving  away  images  of  the  saints, 
and  of  giving  bad  advice  to  his  associates.  In  1576 
he  was  accused  of  apologizing  for  the  heresy  of 
Arius,  that  the  Son  was  begotten  of  the  Father,  and 
so  not  consubstantial  nor  coeternal  with  Him,  but 
created  by  Him  and  subordinate  to  Him;  (which  was 
condemned  by  the  Council  of  Nice,  325,  and  contra¬ 
dicted  in  the  Nicene  Creed;)  admiring  its  scholastic 
form,  rather  than  its  abstract  truth.  Disgusted  with 
his  treatment  he  left  Naples  and  went  to  Rome.  Even 
here  he  was  molested  in  the  Cloister  of  Minerva 
(note  the  pagan  name),  and  was  met  with  an  accusa¬ 
tion  of  130  specifications.  He  then  abandoned  his 


1 68 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


garb  and  his  cloister  and  escaped  from  Rome,  begin¬ 
ning  thus  the  nomadic  life  which  he  continued  until 
immured  in  the  dungeons  of  the  Inquisition  at  Venice, 
sixteen  years  later.  Through  these  wanderings  one 
must  follow  him,  if  one  would  become  familiar  with 
his  life  and  traits. 

He  now  resumed  for  a  time  his  baptismal  name, 
and  traveled  to  a  town  on  the  Gulf  of  Genoa,  where 
he  taught  youth  and  young  gentlemen.  Then  he  passed 
on  to  Turin  and  Venice,  where  he  spent  weeks  in 
futile  attempts  to  find  work.  But  the  schools  and  the 
printing  houses  were  closed  because  of  the  plague.  In 
Venice  however  he  managed  to  print  his  first  book 
on  “The  Signs  of  the  Times;”  or  rather  this  was 
his  first  book  to  appear  in  print.  It  seems  that  be¬ 
fore  he  left  Naples  he  wrote  “The  Ark  of  Noah,” 
a  satirical  allegory.  In  this  he  represented  that  the 
animals  held  a  formal  meeting  in  the  Ark,  to  settle 
questions  of  precedence  and  rank,  and  that  the  pre¬ 
siding  officer,  the  Ass,  was  in  danger  of  losing  his 
position  and  his  influence,  because  his  power  lay 
rather  in  hoofs  than  horns.  Throughout  most  of 
his  life  Bruno  constantly  scored  and  criticised  Asin- 
ity;  it  was  frequently  the  topic  of  his  invective,  and 
those  who  read  between  his  lines  were  probably  quite 
justified  in  regarding  these  frequent  allusions  as  ref¬ 
erences  to  the  ignorance,  bigotry  and  credulity  of  the 
Monks. 

From  Venice  Bruno  went  to  Padua,  where  some  of 
the  Dominican  friars  persuaded  him  to  resume  monas- 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


169 


tic  costume,  since  it  made  travel  easier  and  safer. 
Thence  by  way  of  Brescia  and  Milan  he  may  be  fol¬ 
lowed  to  Bergamo.  At  Milan  he  first  heard  of  his 
future  friend  Sir  Philip  Sydney.  From  Bergamo  he 
resolved  to  go  to  Lyons,  but  learning  that  he  would 
find  anything  but  welcome  there  he  turned  aside  and 
crossed  the  Alps,  arriving  in  Geneva  in  the  Spring  of 
1579.  Here  he  was  visited  by  a  distinguished  Nea¬ 
politan  exile,  the  Marquis  De  Vico,  who  persuaded 
him  again  to  lay  aside  his  clerical  garb,  and  who  gave 
him  the  dress  of  a  gentleman,  including  a  sword. 

Here  is  raised  the  great  question, — Did  Bruno 
adopt  Calvinism?  Before  the  Inquisition  fifteen  years 
later  he  practically  denied  this,  yet  acknowledged  at¬ 
tending  the  lectures  of  Balbani,  of  Lucca,  as  well  as 
of  others  who  taught  and  preached  in  Geneva.  Un¬ 
der  the  regulations  of  the  Academy  (University), 
where  he  had  already  registered,  certain  regulations 
must  be  complied  with,  and  Bruno  appears  to  have 
obeyed  them  in  at  least  a  certain  degree.  But  the  im¬ 
mediate  cause  for  his  departure  from  Geneva  appears 
to  have  been  one  of  his  outbreaks  of  cynicism  and 
accurate  scholarship,  since  in  1579  he  was  called  be¬ 
fore  the  Council  for  having  caused  to  be  printed  a 
document  enumerating  twenty  errors  made  by  the 
Professor  of  Philosophy  (de  la  Faye)  in  one  of  his 
lectures.  The  latter  was  incensed  and  outraged  at 
this  criticism  and  disparagement  of  his  views  and 
learning,  and  the  quarrel  assumed  unexpected  magni¬ 
tude,  since  Bruno,  on  his  second  appearance  before 


170 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


the  Consistory  or  supreme  tribunal  of  the  Church,  de¬ 
nied  the  charges  and  called  the  ministers  “peda¬ 
gogues.”  These  gentlemen  decided  to  refuse  him 
communion  unless  he  should  confess  and  repent  of  his 
faults  and  make  due  apology.  His  acceptance  of 
these  conditions  not  being  hearty  enough  to  suit  his 
judges,  he  was  admonished  and  excluded  from  the 
communion.  These  steps  lead  to  greater  contrition 
on  his  part,  and  the  ban  of  excommunication  was 
withdrawn.  This  sentence  of  exclusion  was  the  only 
one  within  the  power  of  the  Consistory  to  pass,  but 
does  not  prove  that  Bruno  had  accepted  the  protestant 
faith,  nor  partaken  of  its  communion.  In  fact  at  his 
trial  he  steadfastly  denied  this.  It  seemed  however, 
to  disgust  him  with  Calvinism,  against  which  thereaf¬ 
ter  he  never  ceased  to  inveigh.  Later  he  contrasted 
it  with  Lutheranism  which  was  far  more  tolerant,  and 
still  later  gave  him  a  heartier  welcome.  Calvin,  it 
must  be  remembered,  had  written  a  polemic  against 
Servetus,  “in  which  it  is  shown  to  be  lawful  to  coerce 
heretics  by  the  sword.”  As  between  the  council  of 
Trent  and  Calvin  it  certainly  must  have  been  hard,  in 
those  days,  to  select  either  a  faith,  or  an  abiding  place 
where  that  faith  might  be  peaceably  practised.  Doubt¬ 
less  Bruno’s  views  concerning  the  philosophy  of  Aris¬ 
totle  conflicted  with  those  of  the  church  authorities, 
for  Beza  (Calvin’s  follower),  had  stated  that  they 
did  not  propose  to  swerve  one  particle  from  the 
opinions  of  that  Greek  philosopher,  to  whom,  though 
of  pagan  origin,  the  Church,  both  Roman  and  Pro- 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


171 


testant,  was  for  centuries  so  firmly  bound. 

And  so  shaking  the  dust  of  Geneva  from  his  feet 
he  journeyed  to  Lyons,  where  he  failed  utterly  to  find 
occupation,  and  then  on  to  Toulouse,  where  he  re¬ 
mained  about  two  years.  Here  he  took  a  Doctorate 
in  Theology  in  order  to  compete  for  a  vacant  chair. 
To  this  he  was  elected  by  the  students,  as  the  custom 
then  was  in  most  of  the  scholia  or  universities.  For 
two  sessions  he  lectured  on  Aristotle.  Had  this  Uni¬ 
versity  required  of  him  that  he  should  attend  mass, 
as  did  some  others,  he  could  not  have  done  so,  owing 
to  his  excommunication;  though  just  why  exclusion 
from  a  Calvinistic  academy  should  debar  him  from 
,  Catholic  mass  does  not  appear.  Toulouse  was  a  warm 
place  for  heretics;  the  burning  of  14,000  of  them  at 
its  capture  will  prove  this.  A  few  years  (35)  after 
he  left  it  Vanini  was  burned  for  heretic  notions.  It  is 
hardly  to  be  believed  that  Bruno  could  pass  two  years 
or  more  here  without  controversies  arising  from  his 
teaching.  But  his  nominal  reason  for  leaving,  in 
1581,  and  going  to  Paris,  was  the  war  then  raging 
in  Southern  France,  under  Henry  of  Navarre. 

Before  leaving  Toulouse  he  completed  his  “Clavis 
Magna ”  or  “Great  Key,”  the  last  word — as  he 
seemed  to  think — on  the  art  of  memory.  Only  one 
volume  of  this  great  work,  which,  in  his  peculiarly 
egotistical  way,  he  said  is  “superlatively  pregnant,” 
was  ever  published,  and  that  in  England,  the  uSigillus 
Sigillorum!}  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  it  was  on 
both  teaching  and  practising  this  art  of  memory  that 


IJ2 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


Bruno,  throughout  his  career,  prided  himself.  He 
was  even  not  averse,  at  least  at  certain  periods  of  his 
career,  to  the  belief  that  he  had  some  secret  system  for 
this  purpose,  or  even  received  occult  aid.  But  when 
summoned  before  Henry  III,  to  whose  ears  had  come 
his  fame,  and  asked  whether  the  memory  he  had  and 
the  art  he  professed  were  natural  or  due  to  magic,  he 
proved  that  a  good  memory  was  a  cultivated  natural 
product.  He  then  dedicated  to  the  King  a  book  on 
“The  Art  of  Memory.” 

But  this  was  shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Paris,  in 
1581,  where  he  quickly  became  famous.  A  course  of 
thirty  lectures  on  “The  Thirty  Divine  Attributes”  of 
St.  Thomas  Aquinas  would  have  given  him  a  chair, 
could  he  have  attended  mass. 

His  residence  in  Paris  was  marked  by  an  extraor¬ 
dinary  literary  activity.  He  published  in  succession 
De  Umbris  I  dearum  (Shadow  of  Ideas) ,  dedicated  to 
Henry  III,  (this  included  the  Art  of  Memory  just 
mentioned)  Cantus  Circaeus  (Incantation  of  Circe) 
dedicated  to  Prince  Henry;  De  Compendiosa  Arch - 
itectura  et  Complemento  Artis  Lulli  (Compendious 
Architecture)  ;  II  Candelaio  (The  Torchbearer)  ; 
these  all  appeared  in  1582.  These  varied  greatly  in 
character.  The  first  was  devoted  to  the  metaphysics 
of  the  art  of  remembering,  with  an  analysis  of  that 
faculty,  and  these  second  was  given  up  to  the  same 
general  topic.  It  was  all  obscure,  hence  perhaps  its 
popularity.  Brunnhofer  says  that  it  was  “a  conveni¬ 
ent  means  of  introducing  Bruno  to  strange  universi- 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


173 


ties,  gaining  him  favor  with  the  great,  or  helping  him 
out  of  pressing  need  of  money.  It  was  his  exoteric 
philosophy  with  which  he  could  carefully  drape  the 
philosophy  of  a  religion  hostile  to  the  Church,  and 
ride  as  a  hobby  horse  in  his  unfruitful  humors.” 
Nevertheless  we  must  believe  in  his  sincerity.  The 
“Compendious  Architecture”  is  the  first  of  his  works 
in  which  Bruno  deals  with  the  views  of  Raymond 
Lully,  a  “logical  calculus  and  mnemonic  scheme  in  one” 
(McIntyre)  that  had  many  imitators.  For  Lully 
Bruno  seems  to  have  the  greatest  regard,  this  appear¬ 
ing  in  many  ways.  Lully,  by  the  way,  was  a  Spanish 
scholastic  and  alchemist,  who  was  born  on  one  of  the 
Balearic  Islands  in  1235.  He  went  as  a  missionary 
to  the  Mahommedans,  and  spent  much  time  in  Asia 
and  Africa.  He  figures  largely  in  the  history  of  the 
alchemists  and  as  a  practitioner  of  the  occult. 

The  “Torchbearer”  was  a  work  of  very  different 
character.  It  was  described  as  a  “Comedy”  by  one 
who  described  himself  as  “Academico  di  nulla  aca¬ 
demia,  ditto  il  fastidito :  In  tristitia  hilaris,  hilaritate 
tristis.”  It  is  essentially  a  satire  on  the  predominant 
vices  of  pedantry,  superstition  and  selfishness  or  sor¬ 
did  love.  Though  lacking  in  dramatic  power  it  is 
regarded  as  second  to  nothing  of  its  kind  and  time. 
Its  dramatis  personae  are  personified  types,  not  indi¬ 
viduals.  It  was  realistic  even  in  its  vulgarity,  for  ob¬ 
scenity  was  prevalent  in  the  literature  of  those  days. 
But  in  it  Bruno  struck  at  what  seemed  to  him  his 
greatest  enemy,  i.  e.  pedantry. 


174 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


There  were  at  this  time  in  Paris  two  great  Univer¬ 
sities,  one  the  College  de  France,  with  liberal  tenden¬ 
cies,  and  opposed  to  the  Jesuits  and  all  pedantry;  the 
other  the  Sorbonne,  for  centuries  the  guardian  of  the 
Catholic  faith,  endowed  with  the  right  of  censorship, 
which  must  have  been  exercised  over  Bruno’s  works. 
In  which  of  these,  though  surely  in  one  of  them,  Bru¬ 
no  was  made  an  Extraordinary  Lecturer  history  has 
failed  to  record.  He  must  have  offended  both, 
since  he  was  anxious  to  be  taken  back  into  the  Church, 
yet  was  revolutionary  in  his  teaching.  More  than 
thirty  years  later  Nostitz,  one  of  his  pupils,  paid  tri¬ 
bute  to  his  versatility  and  skill,  saying  “he  was  able 
to  discourse  impromptu  on  any  suggested  subject,  to 
speak  extensively  and  elaborately  without  preparation, 
so  that  he  attracted  many  pupils  and  admirers  in  Par¬ 
is.”  (McIntyre).  But  Bruno  belonged  to  the  lit¬ 
erally  peripatetic  school,  and  in  1583  he  forsook  Par¬ 
is  for  London,  because  as  he  says  of  “tumults,”  leav¬ 
ing  it  to  the  imagination  whether  these  were  civil  or 
scholastic. 

Elizabeth  reigned  at  this  time;  her  influence  made 
England  a  harbor  of  safety  for  religious  and  other 
mental  suspects.  She  had  a  penchant  for  Italians  and 
their  language;  two  of  her  physicians  were  Italians, 
and  Florio  was  ever  welcome  at  her  court.  To  this 
court  Bruno  also  was  welcomed,  and,  basking  for 
sometime  in  the  sunshine  of  her  regard  and  patron¬ 
age,  passed  there  the  happiest  portion  of  his  unhappy 
life.  Oxford  was  at  that  time  the  stronghold  of 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


U5 

Aristotelelianism.  One  of  its  statutes  ordained  that 
“Bachelors  and  Masters  who  did  not  follow  Aristotle 
faithfully  were  liable  to  a  fine  of  five  shillings  for 
every  point  of  divergence,  and  for  every  fault  com¬ 
mitted  against  the  Logic  of  the  Organon.”  (Mc¬ 
Intyre).  In  Oxford  at  this  time,  unfortunately,  the¬ 
ology  was  the  only  live  issue;  of  science  as  of  real 
scholarship  there  was  little  or  none.  (Its  predominant 
trait  of  those  days  is  still,  perhaps,  its  dominant  fea¬ 
ture  to-day).  To  this  university  Bruno  addressed  a 
letter,  couched  in  vainglorious  and  egotistical  terms, 
craving  permission  to  lecture  there.  This  was  not  re¬ 
ceived  with  favor,  while  his  doctrines  met  with  small 
encouragement  at  this  ancient  seat  of  learning,  which 
Bruno  later  stigmatized  as  the  “widow  of  true  sci¬ 
ence.”  But  opportunity  was  afforded  him  to  dispute 
publicly  before  a  noble  visitor  in  June,  1583,  a  Polish 
prince;  one  Alasco,  for  whom  great  public  entertain¬ 
ment  had  been  provided.  His  opponent,  defeated  by 
fifteen  unanswerable  syllogisms,  resorted  to  scurrility 
and  abuse.  This  public  exhibition  put  an  end  to  the 
lectures  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul  which  Bruno 
had  been  allowed  to  give,  and  he  returned  to  Lon¬ 
don. 

Shortly  after  this  he  published  his  Cena  (Ash  Wed¬ 
nesday  Supper)  in  which  he  ridiculed  the  Oxford  doc¬ 
tors,  saying  among  other  things  that  they  were  much 
better  acquainted  with  beer  than  with  Greek.  But 
he  criticised  too  cynically  and  lost  thereby  in  popular¬ 
ity.  This  led  to  the  appearance  of  the  Causa ,  a  dia- 


176 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


logue,  in  which  he  was  less  vindictive.  He  admitted  in 
this  that  there  was  much  in  the  old  institution  which 
was  admirable;  that  it  was  even  the  first  in  Europe, 
that  speculative  philosophy  first  flourished  there,  and 
that  thence,  “the  splendor  of  one  of  the  noblest  and 
rarest  spheres  of  philosophy,  in  our  times  almost  ex¬ 
tinct,  was  diffused  to  all  other  academies  in  civilized 
lands.”  What  he  most  condemned  was  the  too  great 
attention  given  to  language  and  words  while  the  re- 
alistics  for  which  words  stand  were  neglected.  Doc¬ 
tors  were  easily  made  and  doctorates  too  cheaply 
bought.  His  charge  in  brief  was  that  they  mistook 
the  shadow  for  the  substance;  a  charge  even  yet  too 
commonly  justified  among  the  strongholds  of  theol¬ 
ogy  and  other  speculative  dogmas. 

Returning  to  London  after  this  experience  Bruno 
went  to  live  with  Mauvissiere,  the  French  Ambassa¬ 
dor.  While  the  English  records  make  no  mention  of 
his  presence  it  is  yet  quite  certain  that  he  was  fre¬ 
quently  at  Court,  and  that  men  like  Sydney,  Greville, 
Temple  and  others  were  his  frequent  associates.  But 
as  the  Ambassador’s  influence  was  on  the  wane,  he 
was  not  equal  to  his  great  trust.  At  this  time  our 
philosopher  spoke  of  himself  as  one  “whom  the  fool¬ 
ish  hate,  the  ignoble  despise,  whom  the  wise  love,  the 
learned  admire,”  etc.  (McIntyre).  Of  Queen  Eliz¬ 
abeth  he  wrote  in  most  fulsome  phrases,  such  as  she 
too  dearly  loved.  Before  his  judges,  a  few  years  later, 
Bruno  apologized  for  his  exaggerated  expressions  con¬ 
cerning  a  Protestant  ruler,  claiming  that  when  he 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


177 


spoke  of  her  as  “divine”  he  meant  it  not  as  a  term  of 
worship,  but  as  an  epithet  like  those  which  the  an¬ 
cients  bestowed  upon  their  rulers;  claiming  further 
that  he  knew  he  erred  in  thus  praising  a  heretic. 

Bruno  published  seven  works  in  England.  The 
first  was  “Explicatio  triginta  Sigillorum ”  the  Thir¬ 
ty  Seals  thus  explained  being  hints  for  acquiring,  ar¬ 
ranging  and  remembering  all  arts  and  sciences.  To  it 
was  added  his  Sigillus  Sigillorum  for  comparing  and 
explaining  all  mental  operations.  Then  came  an 
Italian  dialogue  “La  Cena  de  le  Ceneri ”  or  Ash  Wed¬ 
nesday  Supper.  This  was  written  in  praise  and  exten¬ 
sion  of  the  Copernican  theory,  indeed  quite  exceeding 
it  in  teaching  the  identity  of  matter,  the  infinity  of  the 
universe,  the  possibility  of  life  on  other  spheres,  with 
a  painstaking  attempt  to  show  that  these  notions  do 
not  conflict  with  those  of  Mother  Church.  Next  came 
“De  Causa ,  Principio  et  Uno.”  (Cause,  Principle 
and  Unity) .  This  treated  of  the  immanence  of  spirit, 
the  eternity  of  matter,  the  potential  divinity  of  life, 
the  origin  of  sin  and  death,  and  many  other  similar  ab¬ 
struse  topics.  It  was  followed  by  De  V  Infinito  Uni- 
verso  ed  Mondi,  with  numerous  reasons  for  believing 
the  universe  to  be  infinite  and  full  of  innumerable 
worlds,  with  the  divine  essence  everywhere  pervading. 

All  these  works  appeared  in  1583.  In  1584  ap¬ 
peared  his  “ Spacio  de  la  Bestia  Trio f ante”  or  Ex¬ 
pulsion  of  the  Triumphant  Beast.  In  this  prose  poem 
Jupiter,  repenting  his  errors,  resolves  to  expel  the 
many  beasts  that  occupy  his  heavenly  sphere — the 


i78 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


constellations — and  to  substitute  for  them  the  virtues. 
In  the  council  of  the  gods  convened  by  him  many  sub¬ 
jects  are  discussed,  among  them  the  history  of  re¬ 
ligions,  the  contrasts  between  natural  and  revealed  re¬ 
ligions  and  the  fundamental  forms  of  morality.  In 
this  allegory  Jupiter  represents  of  course  the  hu¬ 
man  spirit;  the  Bear,  the  Scorpion,  etc.,  are  the  vices 
to  be  expelled.  Unfortunately  the  book  was  quite 
generally  regarded  as  attack  upon  the  Church  or  the 
Pope,  though  what  he  really  struck  at  was  the  cre¬ 
dulity  of  mankind.  It  was  dedicated  to  Sir  Philip 
Sydney.  Then  came  his  “ Cabala  del  Cavallo  Pega- 
sio”  or  Cabal,  dedicated  to  a  suppositious  Bishop  who 
was  made  to  impersonate  the  spirit  of  ignorance  and 
sloth.  It  is  a  mordant  satire  on  Asinity,  including 
credulity  and  unquestioning  faith.  After  this  he  ded¬ 
icated  another  work  to  Sidney.  “Degl’  Heroici 
Furori”  (Enthusiasms  of  the  Noble),  a  collection  of 
sonnets  with  prose  commentaries,  like  Dante’s  Vita 
Nuova,  touching  on  the  love  for  spiritual  beauty  aris¬ 
ing  from  that  for  physical  beauty  attaining  a  climax 
in  a  sort  of  ecstasy  by  union  with  the  divine.  These 
sonnets  possess  a  very  high  literary  value  aside  from 
their  other  interest. 

When  his  ambassadorial  patron  was  recalled  Bruno 
probably  returned  to  Paris  with  him,  during  the  lat¬ 
ter  part  of  1585.  Here  he  spent  a  year  amidst  con¬ 
stant  turmoil  and  excitement,  and  at  his  own  expense. 
Though  he  attempted  reconciliation  with  the  Church 
he  was  regarded  as  an  apostate.  He  held  one  more 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


179 


public  disputation  in  which  he  advanced  one  hundred 
and  twenty  theses  against  the  teaching  of  the  Sor- 
bonne,  his  side  being  taken  by  its  rival,  the  College  de 
France.  The  outcome  cannot  have  been  brilliantly  fa¬ 
vorable,  since  he  soon  after  left  Paris,  in  June,  1586. 
The  collection  of  charges  above  alluded  to  was  pub¬ 
lished  in  Paris  after  Bruno’s  departure,  and  again  in 
Wittenberg,  under  the  title  “ Excubitor ”  (The  Am¬ 
bassador).  It  was  an  arraignment  of  the  Aristoteleli- 
ans,  based  on  the  words  of  that  great  master  himself. 
Bruno  claimed  the  same  right  to  criticise  Aristotle 
that  the  latter  claimed  to  criticise  his  predecessors.  In 
it  Bruno  says,  “It  is  a  poor  mind  that  will  think  with 
the  multitude  because  it  is  a  multitude;  truth  is  not 
altered  by  the  opinions  of  the  vulgar  or  the  confirma¬ 
tion  of  the  many;” — and  again — “it  is  more  blessed 
to  be  wise  in  truth  in  face  of  opinion  than  to  be  wise 
in  opinion  in  face  of  truth.”  (McIntyre,  p.  50). 

In  addition  to  this  Bruno  had  also  published,  be¬ 
fore  leaving  Paris,  a  commentary  on  the  Physics  of 
Aristotle. 

Tarrying  somewhat  by  the  wayside  Bruno  reached 
Wittenberg,  where,  in  1586,  he  matriculated  at  its 
University,  Marburg  having  curtly  rejected  him. 
Describing  him  here  McIntyre  styles  him  the  “Knight 
Errant  of  Philosophy.”  Here  Lutheranism  dominat¬ 
ed  the  theological  faculty,  while  the  philosophical  fac¬ 
ulty  was  dominated  by  Calvinism;  views  concerning 
the  person  of  Christ,  the  “Real  Presence,”  and  the 
doctrine  of  Predestination  keeping  them  apart  in  spite 


i8o 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


of  Melancthon’s  attempt  to  reunite  the  two  factions. 
From  the  Lutheran  party  Bruno  obtained  permission 
to  lecture,  and  so  for  two  years  he  taught  from  the 
Organon  of  Aristotle,  as  well  as  the  writings  of  Ray¬ 
mond  Lulli.  To  the  University  senate  he  dedicated 
a  work  on  Lulli,  “De  Lampade  Combinatoria  Lul- 
liana,”  whose  chief  purpose  was  to  teach  one  how  to 
find  “an  indefinite  number  of  propositions  and  middle 
terms  for  speaking  and  arguing.”  He  regarded  it  as 
the  only  key  to  the  Lullian  writings,  as  well  as  a  clue 
to  a  great  many  of  the  mysteries  of  the  Pythagoreans 
and  Cabalists.  It  was  soon  followed  by  “De  Pro - 
gressn  et  Lampade  V enatoria  Logicorum ”  intended 
to  enable  one  to  “dispute  promptly  and  copiously  on 
any  subject.” 

But  again  fate  compelled  a  change  of  residence,  for 
the  Calvanistic  and  Ducal  party  gained  in  political 
ascendancy,  to  which  party  Bruno,  as  a  Copernican, 
would  have  appeared  as  a  heretic.  After  delivering 
an  eloquent  address  of  farewell  he  moved  on,  his  next 
abiding  place  being  Prague,  where  Rudolph  II,  of 
Bohemia,  was  posing  as  the  friend  of  all  learned  men. 
Here  he  already  had  friends  at  court,  and  here  he  in¬ 
troduced  himself  with  another  Lullian  work.  To  the 
Emperor  he  next  dedicated  a  work  of  iconoclastic 
type,  “One  hundred  and  sixty  articles  against  the 
mathematicians  and  philosophers  of  the  day.”  For 
this  the  Emperor  granted  him  the  sum  of  three  hun¬ 
dred  dollars,  and  in  January,  1589,  he  shifted  again 
to  Helmstadt,  in  Brunswick,  where  he  matriculated 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


1 8 1 


again  in  the  then  youngest  of  the  German  Universi¬ 
ties.  This  had  been  founded  only  twelve  years  be¬ 
fore  by  Duke  Julius,  who  was  extremely  liberal  in  his 
views,  and  intended  to  found  a  model  institution,  in 
which  theology  should  not  play  too  dominant  a  part. 
But  while  he  received  here  a  certain  recognition  fate 
again  sported  with  him,  for  the  Duke  died  four 
months  after  his  arrival.  Bruno  obtained  permission 
to  pronounce  a  funeral  oration,  desiring  to  express  his 
gratitude  to  the  memory  of  one  who  had  opened  such 
an  institution,  so  free  to  all  lovers  of  the  Muses  and 
to  exiles  like  himself,  who  were  here  protected  from 
the  greedy  maw  of  the  Roman  wolf,  whereas  in  Italy 
he  had  been  chained  to  a  superstituous  cult.  It  was  full 
of  allusions  to  the  papal  tyranny  which  was  infecting 
the  world  with  the  rankest  poison  of  ignorance  and 
vice. 

The  fatuous  simplicity  and  the  worldly  blindness 
which  Bruno  displayed,  in  ever  setting  foot  inside  of 
Italian  or  papal  territory  after  the  delivery  of  this 
Oratio  Consolatoria,  may  in  one  way  be  appreciated 
but  never  understood  or  explained.  Moreover  he  had 
made  himself  persona  non  grata  as  well  to  the  Prot¬ 
estants,  who  were  scarcely  more  liberal  than  the  Cath¬ 
olics.  It  appears  that  the  great  Boethius,  superinten¬ 
dent  of  the  Church  at  Helmstadt,  had  acted  both  as 
judge  and  executioner,  and  publicly  excommunicated 
Bruno  without  a  hearing,  since  there  is  extant  a  letter 
appealing  from  his  arbitrary  judgment  and  malice. 
The  grounds  for  this  judgment  were  never  made 


I  8  2 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


clear,  since  no  attention  was  ever  paid  to  the  appeal; 
but  inasmuch  as  Bruno  never  really  joined  the  Protes¬ 
tant  profession  it  must  have  been  meant  to  inflict 
some  species  of  social  ostracism.  Boethius  had  him¬ 
self  to  be  suppressed  later.  But  Bruno,  finding  too 
many  enemies,  left  for  Frankfort  in  1590,  “in  order 
to  get  two  books  printed.” 

These  were  his  two  great  Latin  Works,  “De  Mini- 
mo”  and  “De  Immenso,”  the  introduction  to  the  lat¬ 
ter  being  the  “De  Monade.”  He  worked  at  these 
with  his  own  hands.  In  the  introduction  to  the  form¬ 
er  his  publisher  stated  that  before  its  final  revision 
Bruno  had  been  hurriedly  called  away  by  an  unfor- 
seen  chance.  This  sudden  departure  may  have  been 
due  to  a  refusal  of  the  town  Council  to  permit  his 
residence  there,  or  it  may  have  been  a  call  to  Zurich, 
where  he  spent  a  few  months  with  one  Hainzel,  who 
had  a  leaning  toward  the  Black  Arts.  Bruno  wrote 
for  him  “De  Imaginum  Compositione  ”  a  manual  of 
his  Art  of  Memory.  In  this  Swiss  city  he  also  dic¬ 
tated  a  work  “Summa  Terminorum  Metaphysicor- 
um,”  which  was  not  published  until  1609,  and  then 
in  Marburg.  But  Bruno  returned  to  Frankfort  in 
1591,  where  he  obtained  permission  to  publish  his 
De  Minimo.  This  work  was  on  the  “three  fold  mini¬ 
mum  and  measurement,  being  the  elements  of  three 
speculative  and  several  practical  sciences.”  This  like 
the  two  next  mentioned  was  a  Latin  poem,  after  the 
fashion  of  Lucretius.  The  De  Monade ,  Numero  et 
Figura  dealt  with  the  Monad,  and  with  the  elements 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


183 


of  a  more  esoteric  science,  while  in  the  De  Immenso 
et  Innumerabilibus,  the  Immeasurable  and  Innu¬ 
merable,  he  dealt  with  the  Universe  and  the  worlds. 
These  three  poems  contain  Bruno’s  complete  philoso¬ 
phy  of  God  and  Nature. 

While  thus  staying  in  Frankfort  for  the  second  time 
Bruno  was  invited  by  a  young  Venetian  patrician  to 
pay  him  a  visit,  and  become  his  tutor  in  those  arts  in 
which  the  philosopher  excelled.  It  was  the  most  un¬ 
fortunate  event  in  Bruno’s  unhappy  life  when  he  ac¬ 
cepted  this  apparently  tempting  invitation.  Mocenigo, 
his  host,  was  of  good  family,  but  shallow,  vain,  weak- 
minded  and  dishonest,  with  the  fashionable  taste 
of  his  day  for  the  black  arts.  It  is  quite  possible  that 
he  was  moreover  the  tool  of  the  Inquisition,  which 
had  long  desired  to  entrap  Bruno.  It  is  probable 
moreover  that  the  latter  quite  failed  to  appreciate 
how  unenviably  he  was  regarded  by  that  Church  to 
which  he  still  felt  that  he  belonged.  Furthermore 
Venice  was  then  a  Republic  and  free,  and  he  longed 
for  his  beloved  Italy  again. 

En  route  to  Venice  he  spent  three  months  in  Padua, 
teaching  there  and  gathering  around  himself  pupils, 
even  in  that  short  time.  He  had  barely  left  it  when 
Galileo  was  invited  there  to  teach;  as  Riehl  has  said, 
“the  creator  of  modern  science  following  in  the  steps 
of  its  prophet.” 

Early  in  1592  Bruno  went  to  live  in  Mocenigo’s 
house.  Trouble  soon  began.  Entirely  apart  in  tem¬ 
perament  and  characteristics,  they  soon  disagreed. 


184 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


The  pupil  was  deeply  disappointed  at  not  acquiring 
that  mastery  over  the  secrets  of  nature  for  which 
he  had  hoped,  and  found  that  there  was  no  quick  way 
to  acquire  a  retentive  and  replete  memory.  And  so 
Mocenigo  announced  to  his  friend  Ciotto,  the  book¬ 
seller,  his  intent  to  gain  from  Bruno  all  he  could  and 
then  denounce  him  to  the  Holy  Office.  While  others 
were  thus  conspiring  against  him  Bruno  was  writing 
a  work  on  “The  Seven  Liberal  Arts”  and  on  “Seven 
Other  Inventive  Arts,”  intending  to  present  it  to  the 
Pope,  hoping  thus  to  obtain  absolution  and  be  re¬ 
leased  from  the  ban  of  excommunication. 

When  Bruno  at  last  appreciated  the  dangers  by 
which  he  was  surrounded  he  announced  his  intent  to 
go  again  to  Frankfort  to  have  some  of  his  books 
printed,  and  so  took  his  leave  of  Mocenigo.  On  the 
following  day,  in  May,  1592,  Bruno  was  seized  by 
six  men,  using  force,  who  locked  him  in  an  upper  story 
of  Mocenigo’s  house.  The  next  day  he  was  trans¬ 
ferred  to  an  underground  cellar,  and  the  following 
night  to  the  prison  of  the  Inquisition.  May  23rd  his 
former  host  denounced  him,  with  a  cunning  and  ly¬ 
ing  statement  concerning  some  of  his  views  and  teach¬ 
ings.  Thus  he  was  reported  as  stating  that  Christ’s 
miracles  were  only  apparent,  that  He  and  the  apostles 
were  magicians,  that  the  Catholic  faith  was  full  of 
blasphemies  against  God,  that  the  Friars  befouled  the 
world  and  should  not  be  allowed  to  preach,  that  they 
were  asses,  and  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  were 
asses’  beliefs,  etc.  (McIntyre).  This  was  followed 


GIORDANO  BRUNO  185 

two  days  later  by  a  second  denunciation  in  which 
Mocenigo  went  to  a  diabolical  extreme  of  deceit  and 
hypocrisy;  stating  that  all  the  time  he  was  entertain¬ 
ing  Bruno  he  was  promising  himself  to  bring  him  be¬ 
fore  the  Holy  Office.  Within  forty-eight  hours  the 
Holy  Tribunal  met  to  consider  the  matter;  before 
them  appeared  the  book-sellers  who  had  known  Bruno 
in  Zurich  and  Frankfort,  and  before  them  came  Bru¬ 
no  in  his  own  behalf,  professing  his  entire  willingness 
to  tell  the  whole  truth.  Within  a  few  days  Mocenigo 
made  yet  another  deposition,  denouncing  Bruno’s 
statements  about  the  infallible  Church.  On  the  fol¬ 
lowing  day  Bruno  was  again  heard  in  his  own  defense, 
and  appealed  to  the  famous  and  fallacious  doctrine  of 
two-fold  truth,  acknowledging  that  he  had  taught  too 
much  as  a  philosopher  rather  than  as  an  honest  man 
and  Christian,  and  that  he  had  based  his  teachings 
too  much  on  sense  and  reason  and  not  enough  on 
faith ; — so  specious  had  become  his  argument  with  the 
terrors  of  the  Inquisition  before  him.  He  further 
claimed  that  his  intent  had  been  not  to  impugn  the 
faith  but  to  exalt  philosophy.  He  then  beautifully 
epitomized  his  own  views,  claiming  that  he  believed 
in  an  infinite  universe,  in  an  infinite  divine  potency, 
holding  it  unworthy  of  an  infinite  power  to  create  a 
finite  world,  when  he  could  produce  so  vast  an  infinity; 
with  Pythagoras  he  regarded  this  world  as  one  of 
many  stars, — innumerable  worlds.  This  universe  he 
held  to  be  governed  by  a  universal  providence,  ex¬ 
istent  in  two  forms ; — one  nature,  the  shadow  or  foot- 


1 86 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


print  of  deity,  the  other  the  ineffable  essence  of  God, 
always  inexplicable.  Concerning  the  triune  Godhead 
he  confessed  certain  philosophic  doubts  as  well  as  con¬ 
cerning  the  use  of  the  term  “persons”  in  these  distinc¬ 
tions,  while  he  quoted  St.  Augustine  to  the  same  effect. 
The  miracles  he  had  always  believed  to  be  divine  and 
genuine;  concerning  the  Holy  Mass  and  the  Tran- 
substantiation  he  agreed  with  the  Church.  As  the 
days  went  by  he  became  the  more  insistent  upon  his 
orthodoxy.  He  condemned  the  heretic  writings  of 
Melancthon,  Luther  and  Calvin,  expressed  respect  for 
the  writings  of  Lulli  because  of  their  philosophical 
bearings,  while  for  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  he  had  the 
most  profound  regard. 

Other  counts  in  the  indictment  which  he  had  to 
face  were  his  doubts  concerning  the  miracles,  the  sac¬ 
raments  and  the  incarnation,  his  praise  of  heretics  and 
heretic  princes  and  his  familiarity  with  the  magic  arts. 
He  finally  made  a  formal  solemn  abjuration  of  all  the 
errors  he  had  ever  committed,  and  the  heresies  he 
had  ever  uttered,  or  doubts  expressed  or  believed, 
praying  only  that  the  Holy  Office  would  receive  him 
back  into  the  Church  where  he  might  rest  in  peace. 
Further  examinations  were  held  and  the  earlier  pro¬ 
cesses  against  him  in  Naples  and  Rome  recalled.  Af¬ 
ter  this  there  was  a  period  of  apparent  quiet  save  that 
he  remained  in  prison.  It  is  not  known  to  what  tor¬ 
tures  he  may  have  been  subjected,  but  it  is  recorded 
that  he  knelt  before  his  judges  asking  their  pardon, 
and  God’s,  for  all  his  faults,  and  professed  himself 


GIORDANO  BRUNO  187 

ready  for  any  penance,  apparently  not  yet  realizing 
the  fate  in  store  for  him. 

A  little  later  it  transpired  that  the  Sacred  Congre¬ 
gation  of  the  Supreme  Tribunal  of  the  Holy  Office,  in 
Rome,  desired  to  assume  all  further  responsibility  for 
the  process  against  so  distinguished  a  heretic.  Ac¬ 
cordingly  the  machinery  of  the  Church  was  put  in  mo¬ 
tion  to  this  end.  Negotiations  with  the  Venetian  Re¬ 
public,  somewhat  tedious  and  complicated,  which  need 
not  detain  us  now,  were  at  last  concluded.  January 
7,  1503,  the  Venetian  procurator  reported  of  Bruno 
that  “his  faults  were  exceedingly  grave  in  respect  of 
heresies,  though  in  other  respects  he  was  one  of  the 
most  excellent  and  rarest  natures,  and  of  exquisite 
learning  and  knowledge,”  (McIntyre)  but  that  the 
case  was  of  unusual  gravity,  Bruno  not  a  Venetian 
subject,  the  Pope  most  anxious,  etc.  It  was  then  de¬ 
cided  to  remit  him  to  the  Tribunal  of  the  Inquisition 
at  Rome;  whereat  it  is  duly  reported,  the  Pope  was 
deeply  gratified. 

To  Rome  then  he  went  and  here  he  was  lost,  so 
far  as  documentary  records  go,  for  a  period  of  six 
years.  How  to  explain  this  fact  and  this  apparent 
clemency  has  bothered  the  biographers  not  a  little. 
Whether  this  time  was  spent  in  an  examination  of  his 
voluminous  writings,  which  would  seem  incredible,  or 
whether  the  Dominicans  labored  so  long  to  procure 
his  more  absolute  recantation  in  order  to  prevent  scan¬ 
dal  in  and  reflection  on  their  order,  or  whether  Pope 
Clement  himself  regarded  kindly — in  some  degree — 


1 8  8 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


the  great  scholar  who  was  so  anxious  to  dedicate  to 
him  a  magnum  opus; — to  these  queries  history  an- 
swereth  not.  The  Dominicans  pretended — years 
later — to  doubt  if  he  ever  had  been  put  to  death,  or 
whether  he  had  ever  really  belonged  to  their  order. 
These  statements  are  too  characteristic  to  provoke 
more  than  a  sad  smile. 

Finally  matters  were  hastened  to  an  end  by  the 
efforts  of  Fathers  Commisario  and  Bellarmino;  the 
latter  being  the  zealous  bigot  who  decided  that  Coper- 
nicanism  was  a  heresy,  who  later  laid  the  indictment 
against  Galileo.  Through  their  machinations  Bruno 
was,  in  February,  1599,  decreed  on  eight  counts  as  a 
dangerous  heretic,  who  might  still  admit  his  heresies, 
and  he  was  to  be  granted  forty  days  in  which  to  re¬ 
cant  and  repent.  But  this  period  was  stretched  out 
some  ten  months,  until  December,  when  it  was  re¬ 
ported  that  Bruno  refused  to  recant,  having  nothing 
to  take  back.  Among  the  Tribunal  at  this  time  was 
San  Severino,  fanatical,  bitter  because  of  his  failure 
to  secure  the  papacy,  who  had  declared  that  St.  Bar¬ 
tholomew’s  was  “a  glorious  day,  a  day  of  joy  for  Cath¬ 
olics.”  It  was  decided  that  the  high  officers  of  the 
Dominicans  should  make  one  last  effort  to  compel  or 
coax  Bruno  to  abjure.  This  he  declined  to  do, 
Whereupon,  January  20th,  1600,  it  was  decreed  that 
“further  measures  be  proceeded  to,  servatis  servandis, 
that  sentence  be  passed,  and  that  the  said  Friar  Gior¬ 
dano  be  handed  over  to  the  secular  authority.”  A  few 
days  later  Bruno  was  degraded,  excommunicated  and 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


189 


handed  over  to  the  Governor  of  Rome,  with  the  usual 
hypocritical  recommendation  to  “mercy,”  and  that  he 
be  punished  “without  effusion  of  blood,”  which  meant 
of  course  burning  at  the  stake. 

Bruno’s  reply  to  his  judges  deserves  to  be  printed 
in  letters  of  gold  whenever  it  can  be  recorded; — 
“ Greater  perhaps  is  your  fear  in  pronouncing  my  sen¬ 
tence  than  mine  in  hearing  it.” 

Let  us  spare  ourselves  a  too  minute  account  of  his 
execution.  Some  reports  are  to  the  effect  that  his 
tongue  was  tied,  because  he  refused  to  listen  to  the 
exhortations  of  those  members  of  the  Company  of 
St.  John  the  Beheaded,  better  known  as  the  Brothers 
of  the  Misericordia,  who  accompanied  the  condemned 
to  the  scaffold  or  the  stake,  resorting  to  the  most 
cruel  methods  in  order  to  provoke  at  least  some  ap¬ 
pearance  of  recantation  or  repentance  during  the  last 
moments  of  life. 

Right  here  let  it  be  said  of  Bruno  that  whatever 
may  have  been  his  weaknesses  before  the  Inquisition  at 
Venice,  he  stood  firmly  by  his  creed  when  put  to  the 
final  test,  and  died  an  ideal  martyr’s  death  because  his 
creed  did  not  agree  with  that  of  his  persecutors. 

And  so  terminated  the  life  of  one  of  Italy’s  greatest 
ornaments  and  scholars.  The  occasion  had  not  then 
the  importance  we  assign  it  now.  The  burning  of  a 
heretic  was  a  frequent  spectacle,  and  the  year  1600 
was  the  year  of  Jubilee,  in  which  the  death  of  one  un¬ 
believer  more  was  but  the  incident  of  a  day.  He  had 
himself  forseen  it,  saying,  “Torches,  fifty  or  a  hun- 


190 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


dred,  will  not  fail  me,  even  though  the  march  past  be 
at  mid-day,  should  it  be  my  fate  to  die  in  Roman 
Catholic  Country.” 

There  remains  yet  to  comment  on  his  character  and 
to  analyze  his  views. 

The  greatest  blot  upon  the  former  is  his  attitude 
before  the  Venetian  Tribunal.  Here  he  was  at  first 
defiant,  even  polemical,  strong  in  his  asserted  right  to 
use  the  natural  light  of  sense  and  reason.  Under 
greater  stress  he  modified  this  to  one  of  absolute  and 
indignant  denial,  and  finally  became  submissive  to  the 
last  degree,  cringing  and  finally  begging  for  pardon 
on  bended  knees.  That  this  attitude  changed  with 
his  better  realization  of  his  predicament  is  undeniable. 
Moreover  what  keen  and  sensitive  natures  may  do 
under  the  influence  of  torture  is  never  to  be  predi¬ 
cated.  How  many  of  us  could  resist  the  persuasive¬ 
ness  of  the  rack  when  it  came  to  modifying  our  be¬ 
liefs?  But  whatever  may  have  been  his  weakness  at 
that  time,  he  completely  rehabilitated  himself  before 
his  end,  for  were  not  his  ashes  scattered  to  the  winds 
as  a  token  that  he  completely  failed  to  recant?  Sure¬ 
ly  no  martyr  to  science  or  dogma  ever  died  a  more 
dignified  death,  for  the  edification  or  example  of  oth¬ 
ers. 

What  shall  be  said  of  his  persecutors  and  prosecu¬ 
tors?  Let  us  here  be  charitable;  let  us  be  just.  Have 
we  yet  that  absolute  knowledge  of  right  and  wrong 
which  can  enable  us  to  pass  final  judgment  on  men  of 
the  past,  their  motives  and  actions?  Moral  percep- 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


191 

tions  are  the  product  of  the  race,  the  age  and  the  en¬ 
vironment;  they  vary  greatly  with  the  times.  There 
is  no  crime  in  or  out  of  the  Decalogue  which  has  at  all 
times  and  by  all  peoples  been  regarded  as  such.  The 
Church  during  several  centuries  enjoyed  a  monopoly 
of  wisdom  or  learning  as  well  as  of  opportunities  for 
acquiring  them.  Zealotry,  bigotry,  intolerance,  fanat¬ 
icism,  were  the  natural  products  of  such  conditions. 
So  were  cruelty  and  disregard  of  human  life.  Join 
the  mind  of  a  bigot  to  the  body  of  one  who  knows  not 
fear,  and  the  result  will  be  a  Loyola,  or  a  St.  Louis 
of  France,  who  held  that  the  only  argument  a  lay¬ 
man  should  engage  in  with  a  heretic  should  be  a 
sword  thrust  through  the  body.  If  then  heresy  was 
a  crime,  punishable  by  a  cruel  death  in  all  the  capitals 
of  Europe,  let  us  blame  less  the  men  who  were 
trained  and  grew  up  with  these  notions,  but  rather 
more  the  Church  which  preached  them,  whether  Cath¬ 
olic  or  Protestant.  Only  if  one  of  these  really  were, 
as  it  still  claims  to  be,  infallible ,  then  what  has  be¬ 
come  of  its  infallibility?  Or  if  heresy  be  held  still  a 
crime  then  what  shall  we  say  of  the  Church’s  ethics? 
If  one  were  God-given  the  other  is  un-Christ-like. 
But  no  free  thinker  can  engage  in  theological  polem¬ 
ics,  or  with  jesuitical  sophistries,  without  letting  his 
reason  excite  his  emotions;  and  when  the  emotions 
enter  the  door  logic  flies  out  of  the  window. 

Let  us  say  then  that  Bruno  was  in  some  respects  so 
far  ahead  of  his  day  and  generation  that  they  under¬ 
stood  him  not.  And  yet  he  was  a  torch  bearer ,  save 


x92 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


at  his  own  last  funeral  pyre,  shedding  forth  a  light 
which  illumed  the  centuries  to  come,  and  helping  to 
make  the  period  of  the  Italian  Renaissance  one  of  the 
most  important  and  glorious  in  the  world's  history. 
If  better  known  and  more  widely  studied,  he  would  be 
by  English  and  American  students  placed  on  that  pin- 
acle  which  he  deserves  in  the  Hall  of  Fame. 

What  shall  be  said  of  Bruno  as  a  philosopher?  He, 
first  of  all  men  in  the  middle  ages,  taught  that  Na¬ 
ture  was  lovable  and  worthy  of  study.  Loving  her, 
trusting,  confiding  in  her,  he  found  himself  at  outs 
with  all  the  mental  processes  of  his  fellow7  scholars. 
In  this  way  the  natural  method  wras  brought  into  di¬ 
rect  opposition  with  the  ponderously  artificial  and 
strained  methods  of  his  day.  He  held  that  our  eyes 
w^ere  given  us  that  we  might  open  and  look  upward. 
"‘Seeing,  I  do  not  pretend  not  to  see,  nor  fear  to  pro¬ 
fess  it  openly,”  he  says.  His  philosophy  w7as  rather  a 
product  of  intuition  than  of  ratiocination,  which  be¬ 
came  his  real  religion,  for  which  Catholicism  w7as  a 
cloak,  because  in  those  days  one  wras  compelled  to 
w^ear  a  cloak  or  live  but  a  short  life,  and  that  within 
prison  wralls.  What  the  medieval  church,  Catholic 
and  even  Protestant,  has  to  answer  for,  as  to  the  sup¬ 
pression  of  truth  and  provocation  of  hypocrisy,  is  be¬ 
yond  the  mensuration  of  man.  For  the  argument 
from  authority  he  had  the  greatest  contempt,  and 
herein  he  set  the  world  of  thinkers  a  valuable  lesson. 
“To  believe  vrith  the  many  because  they  wTere  many, 
was  the  mark  of  a  slave,”  (McIntyre),  Before  Ba- 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


i93 


con,  before  Descrates,  he  saw  the  necessity  of  “first 
clearing  the  mind  of  all  prejudice,  all  traditional  be¬ 
liefs  that  rest  on  authority.”  He  thus  begins  one  of 
his  sonnets : — 

“Oh,  holy  assinity !  Oh,  holy  ignorance,  holy  folly 
and  pious  devotion;  which  alone  makest  souls  so 
good  that  human  wit  and  zeal  can  go  no  further,”  etc. 

By  the  independence  of  his  mental  processes  he  was 
thrown  quite  upon  his  own  resources,  and  his  nature, 
already  dignified  and  reserved,  was  made  more  in¬ 
trospective  and  self-conscious.  In  this  way  he  devel¬ 
oped  strains  of  vanity  and  egotism  which  led  him  at 
times  to  the  bombastic  self-laudation  of  a  Paracelsus. 
He  had  nothing  but  disgust  for  the  common  people 
and  the  sort  of  scholars  (pedants)  whom  they  ad¬ 
mired.  The  vulgar  mind  was  more  influenced  by 
sophisms,  by  appearance,  by  failure  to  distinguish 
between  the  shadow  and  the  substance.  Take  but  two 
or  three  of  Bruno’s  conceptions : — 

He  perhaps  first  during  the  middle  ages  taught  the 
transformation  of  lower  into  higher  organisms,  fol¬ 
lowing  the  Greeks  who  first  enunciated  the  doctrine 
of  evolution,  which  it  remained  for  Darwin  and  Wal¬ 
lace  to  edit  and  illustrate  as  that  law  of  the  organic 
continuity  of  life,  which  we  call  evolution.  He  further 
wrote  of  the  human  hand  as  a  factor  in  the  evolution 
of  the  human  race,  in  a  way  which  should  have  com¬ 
mended  him  to  the  author  of  the  Bridgewater  treatise. 
He  wrote  of  the  changes  on  the  earth’s  surface 
brought  about  by  natural  processes,  which  have 


194 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


changed  not  only  the  external  configuration  of  the 
same  but  the  fate  and  destiny  of  nations;  of  the 
identity  of  matter  throughout  the  universe;  of  the 
universal  movement  of  matter.  Long  before  Lessing 
he  showed  how  myths  may  contain  the  germs  of 
great  truths,  and  should  be  regarded  as  indications 
thereof.  In  this  way,  he  told  us,  the  Bible  was  to  be 
regarded,  holding  its  more  or  less  historical  state¬ 
ments  to  be  quite  subordinate  to  its  moral  teachings. 

When  we  realize  how  to  such  highly  developed  rea¬ 
soning  powers  as  Bruno  possessed,  were  added  a 
phenomenal  memory,  a  tremendous  power  of  assimila¬ 
tion,  a  developed  imagination,  a  poetic  nature,  the 
gift  of  easy  and  accurate  speech  and  a  temperament 
easily  excited  to  fervor  in  attack  or  defense,  we  may 
the  better  appreciate  his  dominating  greatness  as  well 
as  his  trifling  weakness;  the  former  being  entirely 
to  his  own  credit  while  the  latter  are  ascribed  largely 
to  the  faults  of  his  time,  and  the  fact  that  he  was 
really  living  far  ahead  of  his  day  and  generation.  He 
was  not  only  the  forerunner  of  modern  science,  he  was 
the  prototype  of  the  modern  biblical  critic,  fore¬ 
shadowing  the  modern  higher  criticism,  albeit  in 
veiled  terms,  and  as  a  matter  of  esoteric  teaching; 
because  the  biblical  critic  of  those  days  was  burned  at 
the  stake,  while  to-day  he  is  barely  ostracized  by  the 
shallow  and  narrow  minded,  with  whom  he  has  at 
best  nothing  mentally  in  common.  So  much  have  four 
centuries  of  labor  and  vicarious  suffering  accomplished 
for  the  emancipation  of  the  human  mind. 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


195 


Bruno  had  a  creed,  but  it  was  too  simple  for  his 
times.  He  rejected  certain  orthodox  dogmas,  (e.  g. 
the  Trinity,  the  Immaculate  Conception)  which  com¬ 
mend  themselves  still  less  to  the  emancipated  and  cul¬ 
tivated  minds  of  to-day.  He  absolutely  rejected 
authority,  which  was  a  step  toward  reason  comparable 
to  the  freeing  of  the  slaves  or  serfs.  He  evolved  a 
theory  of  evolution  from  a  priori  concepts,  which  it 
remained  for  Darwin  to  complete  and  demonstrate. 
He  believed  in  the  natural  history  of  religions.  His 
motives  were  of  the  loftiest,  though  his  methods  were 
not  always  those  of  to-day.  He  believed  that  the  es¬ 
sence  of  truth  inhered  in  those  differences  which  kept 
men  apart,  and  still  sever  them.  He  believed  the 
law  of  love  and  that  it  sprang  from  God,  which  is 
the  Father  of  All,  that  it  was  in  harmony  with  nature, 
and  that  by  love  we  may  be  transformed  into  some¬ 
thing  of  His  likeness.  As  Bruno  himself  says: — 
“This  is  the  religion,  above  controversy  or  dispute, 
which  I  observe  from  the  belief  of  my  own  mind,  and 
from  the  custom  of  my  fatherland  and  my  race.” 
( McIntyre,  p.  1 10) . 

And  yet  this  sublime  man  was  burned  as  a  heretic ! 
Let  us  stop  when  we  hereafter  pass  through  the  Cam- 
po  dei  Fiori,  as  I  have  done  many  a  time,  and  take 
off  our  hats  to  the  memory  of  this  great  man,  who, 
while  small  in  some  human  traits,  yet  was  the  great¬ 
est  thinker  in  Italy  during  the  sixteenth  century,  whose 
memory  may  help  us  to  forget  some  of  the  hypocrisies 
and  cant  so  generally  prevalent  during  the  age  which 


196 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


and  among  the  men  who  condemned  him.  Let  us 
also  thank  God  that  there  is  no  Tribunal  of  the  Iniqui- 
sition  to-day,  to  pass  misguided  judgment  upon  us  for 
having  gone  further  than  Bruno  ever  dreamed, 
though  along  the  same  lines,  and  to  condemn  us  there¬ 
fore  to  the  Flames. 

This  paper  has  already  been  prolonged,  perhaps 
tiresomely,  nevertheless  I  cannot  refrain  from  quot¬ 
ing  a  few  paragraphs  from  that  most  versatile  stu¬ 
dent  of  this  period,  Symonds,  whose  estimate  of  Bru¬ 
no  is  as  follows: — (Renaissance  in  Italy;  Catholic 
Reaction,  II  Chap.  ix). 

“Bruno  appears  before  us  as  the  man  who  most 
vitally  and  comprehensively  grasped  the  leading  ten¬ 
dencies  of  his  age  in  their  intellectual  essence.  He 
left  behind  him  the  mediaeval  conception  of  an  extra- 
mundane  God,  creating  a  finite  world,  of  which  this 
globe  is  the  center,  and  the  principal  episode  in  the 
history  of  which  is  the  series  of  events  from  the  Fall, 
through  the  Incarnation  and  Crucifixion,  to  the  Last 
Judgment.  He  substituted  the  conception  of  an  ever- 
living,  ever-acting,  ever-self-effectuating  God,  imman¬ 
ent  in  an  infinite  universe,  to  the  contemplation  of 
whose  attributes  the  mind  of  man  ascends  by  the  study 
of  Nature  and  interrogation  of  his  conscience. 

“Bolder  even  than  Copernicus,  and  nearer  in  his  in¬ 
tuition  to  the  truth,  he  denied  that  the  universe  had 
“flaming  walls”  or  any  walls  at  all.  That  “immagi- 
nata  circonferenza,”  “quella  margine  immaginata  del 
cielo,”  on  which  antique  science  and  Christian  theol- 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


197 


ogy  alike  reposed,  was  the  object  of  his  ceaseless  sa¬ 
tire,  his  oft-repeated  polemic.  What,  then,  rendered 
Bruno  the  precursor  of  modern  thought  in  its  various 
manifestations,  was  that  he  grasped  the  fundamental 
truth  upon  which  modern  science  rests,  and  foresaw 
the  conclusions  which  must  be  drawn  from  it.  He 
speculated  boldly,  incoherently,  vehemently;  but  he 
speculated  with  a  clear  conception  of  the  universe,  as 
wTe  still  apprehend  it.  Through  the  course  of  three 
centuries  we  have  been  engaged  in  verifying  the 
guesses,  deepening,  broadening  and  solidifying  the 
hypotheses,  which  Bruno’s  extension  of  the  Coper- 
nican  theory,  and  his  application  of  it  to  pure  thought 
suggested  to  his  penetrating  and  audacious  intellect.” 

Bruno  was  convinced  that  religion  in  its  higher 
essence  would  not  sufferer  from  the  new  philosophy. 
Larger  horizons  extended  before  the  human  intellect. 
The  soul  expanded  in  more  exhilarating  regions  than 
the  old  theologies  had  offered. 

“Lift  up  thy  light  on  us  and  on  thine  own, 

O  soul  whose  spirit  on  earth  was  as  a  rod 
To  scourge  off  priests,  a  sword  to  pierce  their  God, 
A  staff  for  man’s  free  thought  to  walk  alone, 

A  lamp  to  lead  him  far  from  shrine  and  throne 
On  ways  untrodden  where  his  fathers  trod 
Ere  earth’s  heart  withered  at  a  high  priest’s  nod, 
And  all  men’s  mouths  that  made  not  prayer  made 
moan. 

From  bonds  and  torments,  and  the  ravening  flame, 


198 


GIORDANO  BRUNO 


Surely  thy  spirit  of  sense  rose  up  to  greet 
Lucretius,  where  such  only  spirits  meet, 

And  walk  with  him  apart  till  Shelley  came 
To  make  the  heaven  of  heavens  more  heavenly 

sweet, 

And  mix  with  yours  a  third  incorporate  name.” 


VIII 

STUDENT  LIFE  IN  THE  MIDDLE  AGES* 


I  ASSUME  that  every  university  student  of  to¬ 
day  realizes  that  his  possibilities  and  his  oppor¬ 
tunities  are  better  in  every  way  than  were  those 
enjoyed  by  students  of  bygone  times.  I  take  it, 
also,  that  you  would  not  be  averse  to  listening  to  an 
account  of  the  habits,  the  surroundings,  the  privileges, 
and  the  disadvantages  which  surrounded  students  at 
a  time  when  universities  were  young  and  when  cus¬ 
toms  in  general,  as  well  as  manners,  were  very  differ¬ 
ent  from  those  of  to-day.  With  all  this  in  view,  I 
shall  ask  your  attention  to  a  brief  account  of  Student 
Life  in  the  Middle  Ages,  with  especial  reference  to 
that  of  the  medical  student.  Measured  by  its  results, 
the  most  priceless  legacy  of  mediaeval  times  to  man¬ 
kind  was  the  university  system,  which  began  in  crude 
form  and  with  an  almost  mythical  origin,  but  which 
gradually  took  form  and  shape  in  consequence  of 
many  external  forces.  It  represented  an  effort  to 
“realize  in  concrete  form  an  ideal  of  life  in  one  of  its 
aspects.”  Such  ideals  “pass  into  great  historic  forces 
by  embodying  themselves  in  institutions,”  as  witness, 
for  instance,  the  case  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 


*An  Address  given  before  the  Chas.  K.  Mills  Society  of  Stu¬ 
dents  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  February  19,  1902. 

[Reprinted  from  the  Univ.  of  Penna.  Medical  Bulletin ,  March, 
1902.] 


199 


200 


STUDENT  LIFE 


The  use  of  words  in  our  language  has  undergone 
many  curious  perversions.  Take  our  word  “bom¬ 
bast,”  for  instance.  Originally  it  was  a  name  ap¬ 
plied  to  the  cotton  plant.  Then  it  was  applied  to  any 
padding  for  garments  which  was  made  of  cotton. 
Later  it  was  used  as  describing  literary  padding,  as 
it  were,  as  when  one  filled  out  an  empty  speech  with 
unnecessary  and  long  words,  and,  at  last,  it  came  to 
have  the  meaning  which  we  now  give  it.  So  with  the 
word  “university.”  “Universitas”  in  the  original 
Latin  meant  simply  a  collection,  a  plurality,  or  an  ag¬ 
gregation.  It  was  almost  synonymous  with  “col¬ 
legium.”  By  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  cen¬ 
tury  it  was  applied  to  corporations  of  masters  or  stu¬ 
dents  and  to  other  associated  bodies,  and  implied  an 
association  of  individuals,  not  a  place  of  meeting, 
nor  even  a  collection  of  schools.  If  we  were  to  be 
literal  and  consistent  in  our  use  of  terms,  for  the  place 
where  such  collections  of  men  exercise  scholastic  func¬ 
tions  the  term  should  be  “studium  generate  ”  mean¬ 
ing  thereby  a  place,  not  where  all  things  are  studied, 
but  where  students  come  together  from  all  directions. 
Very  few  of  the  mediaeval  studia  possessed  all  the 
faculties  of  a  modern  university.  Even  Paris,  in  its 
palmiest  days,  had  no  faculty  of  law.  The  name 
universitas  implies  a  general  invitation  to  students 
from  all  over  the  world  to  seek  there  a  place  for 
higher  education  from  numerous  masters  or  teachers. 
The  three  great  studia  of  the  thirteenth  century  were 
Paris,  transcendent  in  theology  and  the  arts;  Bo- 


STUDENT  LIFE 


201 


logna,  where  legal  lore  prevailed;  and  Salernum, 
where  existed  the  greatest  medical  school  of  the 
world’s  history.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  these,  like 
all  the  other  studia  of  the  Middle  Ages,  were  under 
the  influence  of  the  Church,  from  them  sprang  most 
of  the  inspiration  that  constituted  the  mainspring  of 
mediaeval  intellectual  activity,  although  how  baneful 
such  influence  could  be  may  be  illustrated  by  the 
Spanish — that  is,  the  ultra-Catholic  University  of 
Salamanca,  where  not  until  one  hundred  years  ago 
were  they  allowed  to  teach  the  Copernican  system 
of  astronomy. 

Under  the  conditions  existing  during  the  Middle 
Ages,  with  relatively  few  institutions  of  advanced 
learning,  and  in  the  presence  of  that  spirit  which 
led  men  to  travel  long  distances,  and  very  widely 
out  of  the  provinces,  to  the  cities  of  the  great  scholia, 
or,  as  we  call  them  now,  universities,  the  most  imper¬ 
ative  common  want  was  that  of  a  common  language; 
and  so  it  happened  that  not  only  were  the  lectures 
all  given  in  Latin,  but  that  it  was  very  commonly 
used  for  conversational  purposes,  and  appears  to 
have  been  almost  a  necessity  of  university  life.  Early 
in  the  history  of  the  University  of  Paris  a  statute 
made  the  ability  of  the  petitioner  to  state  his  case  be¬ 
fore  the  rector  in  Latin  a  test  of  his  bona-fide  student¬ 
ship.  This  may  perhaps,  in  some  measure  account 
for  the  barbarity  of  mediaeval  Latin.  Still,  as  the 
listener  said  about  Wagner’s  music,  “it  may  not  have 
been  as  bad  as  it  sounded,”  since  the  period  of  great- 


202 


STUDENT  LIFE 


est  ignorance  of  construction  and  rhetoric  had  passed 
away  before  the  university  era  began.  John  Stuart 
Mill  even  praised  the  schoolmen  of  the  Middle  Ages 
for  their  inventive  capacity  in  the  matter  of  technical 
terms.  The  Latin  language,  which  was  originally 
stiff  and  poor  in  vocabulary,  became,  in  its  employ¬ 
ment  by  these  mediaeval  thinkers,  much  more  flexible 
and  expressive.  It  was  the  Ciceronian  pedantry  of 
the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  which  killed 
off  Latin  as  a  living  language.  Felicity  in  Latin 
counted,  then  as  now,  as  a  mark  of  scholarship,  and 
six  hundred  years  ago  a  schoolmaster  could  come  up 
to  the  university  and,  after  performing  some  exer¬ 
cises  and  passing  such  an  examination  as  the  doctors 
of  music  do  to-day,  could  write  one  hundred  verses 
in  Latin  in  praise  of  the  university,  and  take  his  de¬ 
gree.  The  boys  who  went  to  the  universities  learned 
their  Latin  at  inferior  grammar  schools,  often  in 
university  towns.  These  schools  were  mainly  con¬ 
nected  with  cathedrals  or  churches,  although,  in  the 
later  Middle  Ages,  even  the  smallest  towns  had 
schools  where  a  boy  might  learn  to  read  and  write 
at  least  the  rudiments  of  ecclesiastical  Latin.  In  those 
days  not  only  were  the  clergy  Latin  scholars,  but  the 
bailiff  of  every  manor  kept  his  accounts  in  Latin,  and 
a  tutor  even  formed  part  of  the  establishment  of  a 
great  noble  or  prelate  who  had  either  a  family  or 
pages  in  his  care. 

In  those  good  old  days  boys  were  accustomed  to 
seek  the  university  at  the  ages  of  thirteen  to  fifteen. 


STUDENT  LIFE 


203 


A  Paris  statute  required  them  to  be  at  least  four¬ 
teen,  and  naturally  many  were  older.  Many  of  these 
students  were  beneficed,  and  boys  were  canons  or 
even  rectors  of  parish  churches.  In  this  capacity  they 
obtained  leave  of  absence  to  study  in  the  universities, 
and  so  it  was  quite  common  at  one  time  for  rectors 
and  ecclesiastics  of  all  ages  to  appear  in  the  role  of 
university  students.  At  the  close  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  in  the  University  of  Prague,  in  the  law  school 
alone  there  appeared  on  the  list  of  students  one  bish¬ 
op,  one  abbot,  nine  archdeacons,  290  canons,  187 
rectors,  and  still  other  minor  ecclesiastics.  At  one 
time  in  the  University  of  Bologna,  in  the  registry  of 
German  corps,  more  than  half  the  students  were 
church  dignitaries.  Sad  to  relate,  many  of  these  cler¬ 
ical  students  were  among  the  most  disorderly  and 
troublesome  of  the  academic  population,  the  statutes 
vainly  prescribing  that  they  should  sit  “as  quiet  as 
girls;”  while,  as  Rashdall  says,  “even  spiritual  thun¬ 
ders  had  at  times  to  be  invoked  to  prevent  them  from 
shouting,  playing,  and  interrupting.” 

Considering  the  youthfulness  of  what  we  may  call 
the  freshmen,  as  many  of  them  went  up  to  the  uni¬ 
versities  at  the  early  age  already  mentioned,  it  is  not 
strange  that  we  hear  of  “fetchers”  or  “carriers”  or 
“bryngers,”  who  were  detailed  to  escort  them  home; 
but  we  must  remember  that  the  roads  were  dangerous 
in  those  days,  and  that  protection  of  some  kind  was 
necessary  even  for  men.  Proclamations  against  bear¬ 
ing  arms  usually  made  exceptions  in  favor  of  students 


204 


STUDENT  LIFE 


travelling  to  or  from  the  university.  Students,  many 
of  them,  lived  in  halls,  or,  as  we  would  say  now,  dor¬ 
mitories,  and  one  of  them  assumed  the  role  of  princh 
pal,  or  was  delegated  to  exercise  certain  authority. 
Quite  often  this  was  the  man  who  made  himself  re¬ 
sponsible  for  the  rent,  whose  authority  came  only 
from  the  voluntary  consent  of  his  fellow-students,  or 
who  was  elected  by  them. 

When  it  came  to  the  matter  of  discipline,  the  good 
old-fashioned  birchen  rod  was  not  an  unknown  factor 
in  university  government.  There  seems  to  have  been 
always  a  certain  relationship  between  classic  studies 
and  corporal  punishment.  In  mediaeval  university 
records  allusions  to  this  relationship  began  about  the 
fifteenth  century.  In  Paris,  about  this  time,  when 
there  were  so  many  disgraceful  factional  fights,  the 
rectors  and  proctors  had  occasionally  to  go  to  the  col¬ 
leges  and  halls  and  personally  superintend  the  chas¬ 
tisement  of  the  young  rioters.  We  find  also  in  the 
history  of  the  University  of  Louvain  that  flogging 
was  at  one  time  ordered  by  the  Faculty  of  Arts  for 
homicide  or  other  grave  outrages.  It  is  worth  while 
to  recall  for  a  moment  how  grave  offences  were  dealt 
with  in  those  days.  At  the  University  of  Ingolstadt 
one  student  killed  another  in  a  drunken  quarrel,  and 
was  punished  by  the  university  by  the  confiscation  of 
his  scholastic  effects  and  garments,  but  he  was  not 
even  expelled.  At  Prague  a  certain  Master  of  Arts 
assisted  in  cutting  the  throat  of  a  friar  bishop,  and 
was  actually  expelled  for  the  deed.  In  those  days 


STUDENT  LIFE 


205 


drunkenness  was  rarely  treated  as  a  university  of¬ 
fence.  The  penalties  which  were  inflicted  for  the 
gravest  outrages  and  immoralities  were  for  the  great¬ 
er  part  puerile  in  the  extreme.  In  most  serious  cases 
excommunication  or  imprisonment  were  the  penalties, 
while  lesser  offences  were  punished  by  postponement 
of  degree,  expulsion  from  the  college,  temporary  ban¬ 
ishment  from  a  university  town,  or  by  fines. 

In  Leipzig,  in  1439,  the  fine  of  ten  new  groschen 
wTas  provided  for  the  offense  of  lifting  a  stone  or 
missile  with  a  view  of  throwing  it  at  a  master,  but 
not  actually  throwing  it;  whereas  the  act  of  throw¬ 
ing  and  missing  increased  the  penalty  to  eight  flor¬ 
ins,  while  successful  marksmanship  was  still  more  ex¬ 
pensive.  Later  statutes  made  distinction  between  hit¬ 
ting  without  wounding  and  wounding  without  muti¬ 
lation,  expulsion  being  the  penalty  for  actual  mutila¬ 
tion.  With  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century 
the  practice  of  flogging  the  very  poorest  students  ap¬ 
pears  to  have  been  introduced.  During  these  Middle 
Ages  they  had  a  peculiar  fashion  of  expiating  even 
grave  offences.  For  example,  at  the  Sorbonne,  if  a 
fellow  should  assault  or  cruelly  beat  a  servant  he  was 
fined  a  measure  of  good  wine — not  for  the  benefit  of 
the  servant,  but  for  all  the  culprit’s  fellow-students. 
Those  were  the  days,  too,  when  trifling  lapses  incur¬ 
red  each  its  own  penalty.  A  doctor  of  divinity  was 
fined  a  quart  of  wine  for  picking  a  pear  off  a  tree  in 
the  college  garden  or  forgetting  to  shut  the  chapel 
door.  Clerks  were  fined  for  being  very  drunk  and 


20  6 


STUDENT  LIFE 


committing  insolences  when  in  that  condition.  The 
head  cook  was  fined  for  not  putting  salt  in  the  soup. 
Most  of  these  fines  being  in  the  shape  of  liquors  or 
wines,  I  imagine  that  the  practice  was  more  general 
because  the  penalty  was  shared  in  by  all  who  were 
near. 

With  lapse  of  time  the  statutes  of  the  German  uni¬ 
versities  gradually  grew  stricter  until  they  became 
very  minute  and  restrictive  in  the  matter  of  unaca- 
demical  pleasures.  A  visit  to  the  tavern,  or  even  to 
the  kitchen  of  the  college  or  hall,  became  a  university 
offence.  There  were  statutes  against  swearing,  against 
games  of  chance,  walking  abroad  without  a  com¬ 
panion,  being  out  after  eight  in  the  winter  or  nine 
in  the  summer,  making  odious  comparisons  of  coun¬ 
try  to  country,  etc.  This  was  particularly  true  of  the 
English  universities,  where  a  definite  penalty  was  im¬ 
posed  for  every  offence,  ranging  from  a  quarter  of  a 
penny  for  not  speaking  Latin  to  six  shillings  eight 
pence  for  assault  with  effusion  of  blood. 

The  matter  of  constantly  speaking  Latin  led  to  a 
system  of  espionage,  by  which  a  secret  system  of 
spies,  called  “ lupi ”  or  wolves,  was  arranged;  these 
were  to  inform  against  the  “vulgaris antes,”  or  those 
offenders  who  persisted  in  speaking  in  their  mother 
tongue. 

It  was  the  students  of  those  days  who  set  the  ex¬ 
ample  and  the  fashion  of  initiating,  or,  as  we  would 
say  now,  of  hazing  the  newcomers.  This  custom  of 
initiation,  in  one  form  or  another,  seems  to  have  an 


STUDENT  LIFE 


207 


almost  hoary  antiquity.  As  Rashdall  puts  it,  three 
deeply  rooted  instincts  of  human  nature  combine  to 
put  the  custom  almost  beyond  suppression.  It  satis¬ 
fies  alike  the  bullying  instinct,  the  social  instinct,  and 
the  desire  to  find  at  once  the  excuse  and  the  means  for 
a  carouse.  In  the  days  of  which  we  are  speaking 
the  Bejannus,  which  is  a  corruption  of  the  old  French 
Bec-jaune  (or  yellow  bill),  as  the  academic  fledgling 
was  called,  had  to  be  bullied  and  coaxed  and  teased 
in  order  to  be  welcomed  as  a  comrade,  and  finally 
his  “jocund  advent”  had  to  be  celebrated  by  a  feast 
furnished  at  his  own  expense.  A  history  of  the  pro¬ 
cess  of  initiating  would  furnish  one  of  the  most  singu¬ 
lar  chapters  in  university  records.  At  first  there  were 
several  prohibitions  against  all  bejaunia,  for  the  un¬ 
fortunate  youth’s  limited  purse  ill  afforded  even  the 
first  year’s  expenses.  As  the  years  went  by  certain 
restrictions  were  imposed,  and  by  the  sixteenth  cen¬ 
tury  the  depositio  cornuum  had  become  in  the  Ger¬ 
man  universities  a  ceremony  almost  equal  in  import¬ 
ance  to  matriculation.  The  callow  country  youth 
was  supposed  to  be  a  wild  beast  who  must  be  de¬ 
prived  of  his  horns  before  he  could  be  received  into 
refined  society  in  his  new  home.  This  constituted  the 
depositio  for  which  he  was  supposed  to  arrange  with 
his  new  masters,  at  the  same  time  begging  them  to 
keep  expenses  as  low  as  possible.  Soon  after  he  ma¬ 
triculated  he  was  visited  in  his  room  by  two  of  the 
students,  who  would  pretend  to  be  investigating  the 
source  of  an  abominable  odor. 


208 


STUDENT  LIFE 


This  would  be  subsequently  discovered  to  be  due 
to  the  newcomer  himself,  whom  they  would  take  at 
first  to  be  a  wild  boar,  but  later  discovery  to  be  that 
rare  creature  known  as  a  bejaunus,  a  creature  of 
whom  they  had  heard,  but  which  they  had  never  seen. 
After  chaffing  comments  about  his  general  ferocious 
aspect  it  would  be  suggested,  with  marked  sympathy, 
that  his  horns  might  be  removed  by  operation,  the 
so-called  depositio.  The  victim’s  face  would  then 
be  smeared  with  some  preparation,  and  certain  for¬ 
malities  would  be  gone  through  with — clipping  his 
ears,  removal  of  his  tusks,  etc.  Finally,  in  fear  lest 
the  mock  operation  should  be  fatal,  the  patient  would 
be  shriven;  one  of  the  students,  feigning  himself  a 
priest,  would  put  his  ear  to  the  dying  man’s  mouth 
and  then  repeat  his  confession.  The  boy  was  made 
to  accuse  himself  of  all  sorts  of  enormities,  and  finally 
it  was  exacted  as  penance  that  he  should  provide  a 
sumptuous  banquet  for  his  new  masters  and  com¬ 
rades. 

This  latter  ceremony  consisted  of  a  procession 
headed  by  a  master  in  academic  dress,  followed  by 
students  in  masquerading  costume.  Certain  further 
operative  procedures  were  then  gone  through  with, 
the  beast  was  finally  dehorned  and  his  nose  held  to 
the  grindstone,  while  a  little  later  his  chin  was 
adorned  with  a  beard  made  of  burnt  cork,  and  his 
wounded  sensibilities  assuaged  by  a  dose  of  salt  and 
wine.  All  this  constituted  a  peculiar  German  cus¬ 
tom,  although  some  means  of  extorting  money  or 


STUDENT  LIFE 


209 


bothering  those  who  were  initiated  was  practically 
universal.  In  Germany  this  ceremony  of  depositio 
seems  to  have  led  later  to  the  bullying  and  fagging  of 
juniors  by  seniors,  that  gave  rise  to  indignities  while 
at  the  same  time  it  more  than  exceeded  in  brutality 
anything  of  which  we  have  read  in  the  English  gram¬ 
mar  schools.  These  excesses  reached  their  highest  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  for  a  long  time  defied 
all  efforts  of  both  government  and  university  authori¬ 
ties  to  suppress  them. 

In  southern  France  this  initiation  assumed  some¬ 
what  different  form.  Here  the  freshman  was  treated 
as  a  criminal,  and  had  to  be  tried  for  and  released 
by  purgation  from  the  consequences  of  his  original 
sin.  At  Avignon  this  purgation  of  freshmen  was 
made  the  primary  purpose  of  a  religious  fraternity 
formed  under  ecclesiastical  sanction,  and  with  a  chap¬ 
el  in  the  Dominican  church.  (Rashdall).  The  pre¬ 
amble  of  its  constitution  piously  boasted  that  its  ob¬ 
ject  was  to  put  a  stop  to  enormities,  drunkenness  and 
immorality,  but  its  practices  were  at  extreme  variance 
with  its  avowed  purposes. 

The  matter  of  academical  dress  may  interest  for  a 
moment.  During  the  Middle  Ages  there  was  for  the 
undergraduate  nothing  which  could  be  properly 
called  academic  dress.  In  the  Italian  universities  the 
students  wore  a  long  black  garment  known  as  a  “cap- 
pa.”  In  the  Parisian  universities  every  student  was 
required  by  custom  or  statute  to  wear  a  tonsure  and 
a  clerical  habit,  such  “indecent,  dissolute,  or  secular” 


210 


STUDENT  LIFE 


apparel  as  puffed  sleeves,  pointed  shoes,  colored  boots, 
etc.,  being  positively  forbidden;  and  so  the  clothes 
of  uniform  color  and  material,  like  those  worn  in 
some  of  the  English  charitable  schools,  have  been  the 
result  of  the  uniform  dress  of  a  particular  color  which 
mediaeval  students  were  supposed  to  wear,  and  which 
indicated  that  at  the  time  they  were  supposed  to 
be  clerks.  At  one  time  the  so-called  Queen’s  Men  in 
Oxford  University  v/ere  required  to  wear  bright  red 
garments,  and  differences  of  color  and  ornament  still 
survive  in  the  undergraduate  gowns  of  Cambridge. 
While  the  students  usually  wore  dark-hued  material, 
the  higher  officials  of  the  universities  wore  more  and 
more  elaborate  garments,  until  the  rector  appeared  in 
violet  or  purple,  perhaps  with  fur  trimmings.  The 
hoods,  which  are  still  worn  to-day,  were  at  one  time 
made  of  lamb’s  wool  or  rabbit’s  fur,  silk,  such  as 
those  which  we  wear,  coming  in  as  a  summer  alterna¬ 
tive  at  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  century.  The  bir- 
retta,  or  square  cap,  with  a  tuft  on  the  top,  in  lieu 
of  the  modern  tassel  on  top  of  the  square  cap,  was  a 
distinctive  badge  of  membership,  while  doctors  and 
superior  officers  were  distinguished  by  the  red  or 
violet  color  of  their  birrettas. 

This  so-called  “philosophy  of  clothes”  throws  much 
light  upon  the  relation  of  the  Church  to  the  universi¬ 
ties,  as  well  as  on  the  use  and  misuse  of  the  term  “cler- 
icus.”  That  a  man  was  a  clericus  in  the  Middle  Ages 
did  not  necessarily  imply  that  he  had  taken  even  the 
lowest  grade  of  clerical  orders.  It  simply  implied 


STUDENT  LIFE 


211 


that  he  was  a  clerk,  i.  e.,  a  student.  Even  the  wear¬ 
ing  of  a  so-called  clerical  dress  was  rather  in  order 
that  the  wearer  might  enjoy  exemption  from  secular 
courts  and  the  privileges  of  the  clerical  order.  The 
lowest  of  the  people  even  took  the  clerical  tonsure 
simply  in  order  to  get  the  benefit  of  clergy;  and  to 
become  a  clerk  was  at  one  time  almost  equivalent  to 
taking  out  a  license  for  the  commission  of  murder 
or  outrage  with  comparative  immunity.  Neverthe¬ 
less,  the  relation  between  clerkship  and  minor  orders 
is  still  quite  obscure. 

It  is  quite  evident  that  students  of  those  days  were 
not  worked  as  hard  as  those  of  the  present  day. 
Three  lectures  a  day  constituted  a  maximum  of  work 
of  this  kind,  beside  which  there  were  disputations  and 
“resumpciones,”  which  seem  to  have  corresponded 
very  much  to  the  quizzes  of  to-day,  scholars  being 
examined  or  catechised,  sometimes  even  by  the  lec¬ 
turer  himself.  Gradually  supplementary  lectures 
were  introduced,  but  there  was  a  period  during  which 
the  university  seemed  to  decline  and  decay  rather  than 
the  reverse,  when  intellectual  life  was  not  nearly  as 
active  and  studies  not  nearly  as  closely  pursued.  In 
the  days  of  Thomas  Aquinas  intellectual  vigor  was  at 
its  highest,  but  in  the  fifteenth  century  there  was  a 
distinct  falling  off. 

During  these  centuries,  too,  it  was  not  unusual  that 
students  attended  mass  or  religious  services  before 
going  to  lectures.  This  practice  grew  during  the 
latter  portion  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Attendance  w£* 


212 


STUDENT  LIFE 


not,  however,  compulsory.  Even  at  Oxford  the 
statutes  of  the  New  College  were  the  first  which  re¬ 
quired  daily  attendance  at  mass.  In  those  days  lec¬ 
tures  began  at  six  in  the  morning  in  summer,  and 
sometimes  as  late  as  seven  in  the  winter  mornings. 
There  is  every  reason  to  think  that  often  lectures  were 
given  in  the  darkness  preceding  dawn,  and  even  with¬ 
out  artificial  light.  It  should  be  said  that  these  lec¬ 
tures  were  sometimes  three  hours  in  duration,  and 
hence  it  might  appear  that  three  such  lectures  a  day 
were  about  all  that  could  be  expected  of  a  student. 

The  standard  of  living  for  the  mediaeval  student 
was  not  always  so  bad  as  has  been  sometimes  repre¬ 
sented.  University  students  then,  as  now,  were  re¬ 
cruited  from  the  highest  as  well  as  the  poorest  social 
classes,  and  the  young  sons  of  princely  families  often 
had  about  them  quite  an  establishment.  At  the  lower 
end  of  the  university  social  ladder  was  the  poor  schol¬ 
ar  who  was  reduced  to  begging  for  his  living  or  be¬ 
coming  a  servant  in  one  of  the  colleges.  In  Vienna 
and  elsewhere  there  were  halls  whose  inmates  were 
regularly  sent  out  to  beg,  the  proceeds  of  their  men¬ 
dicancy  being  placed  in  a  common  chest.  Very  poor 
scholars  were  often  granted  licenses  to  beg  by  the 
chancellor.  This  was  not  regarded  as  a  particular 
degradation,  however,  because  the  example  of  the 
friars  had  made  begging  comparatively  respectable. 
Those  who  would  have  been  ashamed  to  work  hard 
were  not  ashamed  to  beg. 

This  custom,  for  that  matter,  is  by  no  means  yet 


STUDENT  LIFE 


213 


abandoned.  When  I  was  first  studying  in  Vienna,  in 
1 88 2,  I  remember  a  young  German  nobleman  who 
was  reduced  to  such  an  extent  that  he  lived  abso¬ 
lutely  on  the  charity  of  others.  He  kept  a  little  book 
in  which  he  had  it  set  down  that  on  such  a  day  such 
a  person  had  promised  to  give  him  so  much  toward 
his  support,  and  he  called  regularly  on  his  list  of  sup¬ 
porters,  and  almost  daily,  in  order  that  the  gulden 
which  they  had  promised  him  might  be  forthcoming. 

There  is  the  good  old  story  you  know,  also,  of 
the  three  students  who  were  so  poor  that  they  had 
but  one  cappa  or  gown  between  them,  in  which  they 
took  turns  to  go  to  lectures.  In  the  small  university 
towns,  where  thousands  of  students  gathered  togeth¬ 
er  during  a  part  of  the  year — where  means  of  carry¬ 
ing  food  were  scanty,  and  food  itself  not  abundant- — 
it  is  not  strange  that  student  fare  was  often  of  the 
most  meagre  sort. 

The  matter  of  food  was  not  the  only  hardship  of 
student  life  in  those  days  about  which  we  are  talking. 
At  that  time  such  a  thing  as  a  fire  in  a  lecture-room 
was  unknown,  there  being  no  source  of  warmth  or 
comfort,  save,  perhaps,  straw  or  rushes  upon  the 
floor.  The  winter  in  the  northern  university  towns 
must  have  been  severe,  but  it  is  not  likely  that  either 
in  the  lecture-room  or  in  his  own  apartments  did  the 
student  have  any  comfort  from  heat.  This  was  true 
to  such  an  extent  that  they  often  sought  the  kitchens 
for  comfort.  In  Germany  it  was  even  one  of  the  du¬ 
ties  of  the  head  of  the  college  to  inspect  the  college- 


214 


STUDENT  LIFE 


rooms  lest  the  occupants  should  have  supplied  them¬ 
selves  with  some  source  of  heat.  In  some  places, 
however,  there  was  a  common  hall  or  combination 
room  in  which  a  fire  was  built  in  cold  weather.  You 
must  remember,  also,  that  glass  windows  were  an  ex¬ 
ceptional  luxury  until  toward  the  close  of  the  period 
under  discussion.  In  Padua  the  windows  of  the 
schools  were  made  of  linen.  In  1643  a  glass  window 
was  for  the  first  time  introduced  into  the  Theological 
School  at  Prague.  In  1600  the  rooms  inhabited  by 
some  of  the  junior  fellows  at  Cambridge  were  still 
unprovided  with  glass  windows.  Add  to  these  hard¬ 
ships  the  relative  expense  of  lights,  when  the  average 
price  of  candles  was  nearly  two  pence  per  pound, 
and  you  will  see  that  the  poorest  student  could  not 
afford  to  study  by  artificial  light.  Some  of  the  senior 
students  may  have  had  bedsteads,  but  the  younger 
students  slept  mostly  upon  the  floor.  In  some  places 
there  were  cisterns  or  troughs  of  lead,  or  occasionally 
pitchers  and  bowls  were  provided,  but  usually  the  stu¬ 
dent  had  to  resort  to  the  public  lavatory  in  the  hall. 

Along  with  these  hardships  consider  the  amuse¬ 
ments  of  this  period,  which  were  for  the  greater  part 
conspicuous  by  their  absence.  Statutes  concerning 
amusements  were  often  more  stringent  than  those 
concerning  crime  or  vice.  These  were  essentially  mil¬ 
itary  times,  and  tournaments,  hunting,  and  hawking, 
which  were  enjoyed  by  the  upper  social  classes,  were 
considered  too  expensive  and  distracting  for  univer¬ 
sity  students,  and  were  consequently  forbidden.  “Mor- 


STUDENT  LIFE 


215 


tification  of  the  flesh”  was  the  cry  of  those  days,  as 
even  now  among  some  religious  fanatics.  Even  play¬ 
ing  with  a  ball  or  bat  was  at  times  forbidden,  along 
with  other  “insolent  games.”  A  statute  of  the  six¬ 
teenth  century  speaks  of  tennis  and  fives  as  among 
“indecent  games”  whose  introduction  would  create 
scandal  in  and  against  the  college.  Games  of  chance 
and  playing  for  money  were  also  forbidden;  never¬ 
theless,  they  were  more  or  less  practised.  Even  chess 
enjoyed  a  bad  reputation  among  the  mediaeval  moral¬ 
ists,  and  was  characterized  by  a  certain  bishop  of 
Winchester  as  a  “noxious,  inordinate,  and  unhonest 
game.”  Dancing  was  rather  a  favorite  amusement, 
but  was  repressed  as  far  as  possible,  since  the  cele¬ 
brated  William  of  Wykeham  found  it  necessary  to 
prohibit  dancing  and  jumping  in  the  chapel.  Appar¬ 
ently,  then,  in  those  days  a  good  student  amused 
himself  little,  if  at  all,  and  had  to  find  his  relaxa¬ 
tion  in  the  frequent  interruptions  caused  by  church 
holidays.  At  St.  Andrew’s,  in  Scotland,  however, 
two  days’  holiday  was  allowed  at  carnival  time  ex¬ 
pressly  for  cock-fighting.  On  the  evenings  of  festival 
days  entertainments  were  occasionally  provided  by 
strolling  players,  jesters,  or  mountebanks,  who  were 
largely  patronized  by  students. 

Altogether,  it  is  not  strange  that  students  in  those 
days  fell  into  dissolute  habits,  many  having  to  be  ex¬ 
pelled  or  punished.  We  can  even  understand  how 
some  of  them  actually  turned  highwaymen  and  way¬ 
laid  their  more  peaceful  brothers  as  they  approached 


21  6 


STUDENT  LIFE 


the  universities  with  money  for  the  ensuing  season. 
In  the  archives  of  the  University  of  Leipzig  there  are 
standard  forms  of  proclamation  against  even  such 
boyish  follies  as  pea-shooting,  destruction  of  trees  and 
crops,  throwing  water  out  of  the  window  upon  pass¬ 
ers-by,  shouting  at  night,  wearing  of  disguises,  inter¬ 
fering  with  a  hangman  in  the  execution  of  his  duty, 
or  attending  exhibitions  of  wrestling,  boxing,  and  the 
like. 

Evidently,  then,  university  life  had  its  exceeding¬ 
ly  wild  side.  One  needs  only  to  recall  the  history  of 
the  famous  Latin  Quarter  in  Paris  to  be  convinced 
of  this.  This  was  the  students’  quarter  in  the  old 
city  of  Paris  as  extended  by  Philip  Augustus  across 
the  river.  Paris  then  was  surrounded  by  a  cordon  of 
monasteries,  whose  abbots  exercised  jurisdiction  over 
their  surrounding  districts.  Just  to  the  west  of  the 
student  quarter  stood  the  great  Abbey  of  St.  Ger¬ 
main.  Between  the  monks  of  this  monastery  and  the 
students  there  were  frequent  conflicts,  and  it  is  re¬ 
corded  that  in  1278,  for  instance,  a  pitched  battle  oc¬ 
curred  between  the  monks,  under  their  provost,  on 
one  side,  and  the  unarmed  and  defenceless  boys  and 
masters,  on  the  other,  during  which  many  were  bad¬ 
ly  wounded,  and  some  mortally.  The  matter  was 
finally  carried  to  court,  and  the  monks  were  re¬ 
quired  to  perform  certain  penances  and  to  pay  certain 
fines.  Their  brutality,  however,  was  not  effectually 
suppressed.  In  1304  the  Provost  of  Paris  hanged 
and  gibbetted  a  student,  and  was  punished  therefor 


STUDENT  LIFE 


217 


by  the  king;  while  the  subsequent  history  of  Paris  is 
one  of  constant  conflict  between  students  and  the  cler¬ 
ical  orders.  On  the  other  hand,  the  clerical  tonsure 
in  which  the  Parisian  scholar  clothed  himself  enabled 
him  to  indulge  in  all  kinds  of  crime,  without  fear 
of  that  summary  execution  which  would  have  been 
his  fate  had  he  been  merely  an  ordinary  beggar. 

Bibulousness  was  another  striking  characteristic 
of  mediaeval  university  life.  In  those  days  they  knew 
not  tea  nor  coffee  nor  tobacco,  but  spirituous  liquors 
in  some  form  were  far  from  unknown  to  them.  No 
important  event  of  life  could  be  transacted  without 
its  drinking  accompaniment.  At  all  exercises,  public 
or  private,  wine  was  freely  provided,  and  many  of  the 
feasts  and  festivals  which  began  with  mass  were  con¬ 
cluded  with  a  drunken  orgie. 

You  have  observed  that  so  far  I  have  made  fre¬ 
quent  mention  of  clerical  matters.  In  truth,  in  north¬ 
ern  Europe  the  Church  included  practically  all  the 
learned  professions,  including  the  civil  servants  of 
the  government,  the  physicians,  architects,  secular 
lawyers,  diplomatists,  and  secretaries,  who  were  all 
ecclesiastics.  It  is  true  that  in  order  to  be  a  “clerk” 
it  was  not  really  necessary  to  take  even  minor  orders, 
but  it  was  so  easy  for  a  king  or  bishop  to  reward 
his  physician,  his  lawyer,  or  his  secretary  by  a  monas¬ 
tic  office  rather  than  by  a  large  salary,  that  the  aver¬ 
age  student,  at  least  in  the  larger  places,  looked  to 
holy  orders  as  his  eventual  destination.  How  much 
of  insincerity  and  hypocrisy  there  were  among  those 


218 


STUDENT  LIFE 


reverend  gentlemen  thus  constituted  you  may  imagine 
better  than  I  can  picture.  The  Reformation,  as  well 
as  the  increasing  corruption  of  the  monastic  orders, 
brought  about  changes  which  were  not  rapid,  but 
which  became  almost  complete,  and  led  finally  to  the 
partial  restoration  of  the  ancient  dignity  of  the  early 
Church. 

Without  pursuing  this  part  of  the  subject  further, 
it  may  be  imagined  what  a  general  alteration  and 
reformation  in  all  branches  of  study,  as  well  as  in 
the  general  intellectual  life  of  the  people,  the  found¬ 
ing  of  the  universites  accomplished.  For  the  greater 
part  designed  for  the  confirmation  of  the  faith,  they 
often  brought  about  a  reaction  against  it.  Like  the 
other  integral  portions  of  the  university,  the  medical 
departments  of  nearly  all  the  mediaeval  institutions 
came  into  existence  through  voluntary  associations 
of  physicians  and  would-be  teachers.  For  a  long 
time  medicine  was  included  under  the  general  head  of 
philosophy,  whose  standard-bearers  were  Aristotle 
and  the  Arabians.  At  Tubingen,  in  1481,  the  med¬ 
ical  student’s  days  were  divided  about  as  follows :  In 
the  morning  he  studied  Galen’s  Ars  Medici ,  and  in 
the  afternoon  Avicenna  on  Fever.  During  the  sec¬ 
ond  year,  in  the  forenoon  he  studied  Avicenna’s  An¬ 
atomy  and  Physiology,  and  in  the  afternoon  the  ninth 
book  of  Rhazes  on  Local  Pathology.  The  forenoons 
of  his  third  year  were  spent  with  the  Aphorisms  of 
Hippocrates,  and  in  the  afternoon  he  studied  Galen. 
If  any  text-book  on  surgery  at  all  were  used  it  was 


STUDENT  LIFE 


219 


usually  that  of  Avicenna.  Some  time  was  also  given 
to  the  writings  of  some  of  the  other  Arabian  phy¬ 
sicians.  At  that  time  any  man  who  had  studied  medi¬ 
cine  for  three  years  and  attained  the  age  of  twenty- 
one  might  assume  the  role  of  teacher  if  he  saw  fit, 
being  compelled  only,  at  first,  to  lecture  upon  the 
preparatory  branches.  He  was  at  that  time  called 
a  baccalaureus.  After  three  years’  further  study  he 
became  a  magister  or  doctor ,  although  for  the  latter 
title  a  still  further  course  of  study  was  usually  pre¬ 
scribed.  The  courses  of  medical  instruction  were 
quite  stereotyped  in  form,  and  were  carefully  watched 
over  by  the  Church.  Nevertheless,  it  came  about 
that  the  study  of  medicine  once  more  was  taken  up 
by  thinkers,  although,  unfortunately,  not  logical 
thinkers,  whereas  previously  it  had  been  almost  en¬ 
tirely  confined  within  the  ranks  of  the  clerics  or  cler¬ 
gy.  The  most  celebrated  of  all  these  mediaeval  phil¬ 
osophers  in  science  and  medicine  was  Albert  von  Boll- 
staedt,  usually  known  as  Albertus  Magnus,  wTho  died 
in  1280.  His  works  wThich  remain  to  us  fill  twenty- 
one  quarto  volumes,  in  which  he  discussed  both  an¬ 
atomical  and  physiological  questions.  It  is  exceed¬ 
ingly  illustrative  of  the  foolishly  speculative  vein  in 
which  many  of  these  discussions  were  carried  on,  that 
they  seriously  discussed  such  questions  as  whether  the 
removal  of  the  rib  from  Adam’s  side,  out  of  which 
Eve  was  formed,  really  caused  Adam  severe  pain,  and 
whether  at  the  judgment  day  that  loss  of  rib  would 
be  compensated  by  the  insertion  of  another.  Those 


220 


STUDENT  LIFE 


were  the  days,  also,  when  it  was  seriously  discussed 
whether  Adam  or  Eve  ever  had  a  navel.  In  spite  of 
such  follies,  however,  Albertus  Magnus  left  an  im¬ 
pression  upon  scholarship  in  science,  in  a  general 
way,  which  long  outlasted  him. 

These  were  the  days  when  the  students  organized 
themselves  into  so-called  “nations,”  whence  arose  that 
conspicuous  features  of  German  university  life  of  to¬ 
day  of  so-called  students’  Corps.  These  nations — 
each  composed,  for  the  main  part,  of  men  of  one  na¬ 
tionality — had  their  own  meeting-places,  their  own 
property,  etc.  One  of  the  principal  means  of  in¬ 
struction  in  those  days  was  disputations,  or,  as  we 
would  say,  debates,  held  between  students,  often  of 
different  nations,  in  which  they  were  expected  to 
prove  their  knowledge  and  mental  alertness.  When 
it  is  recalled  that  universities  were  larger — i.  e.,  bet¬ 
ter  attended — in  those  days  than  now,  it  will  be  seen 
to  what  an  extent  these  nations  were  developed.  Ox¬ 
ford,  in  1340,  is  said  to  have  had  no  less  than 
14,000  students;  Paris  about  the  same  time  had 
12,000;  and  Bologna  had  some  10,000  students,  the 
majority  of  whom  were  studying  law. 

The  title  of  doctor  came  into  vogue  about  the 
twelfth  century.  At  first  it  was  confined  to  teachers 
proper,  and  was  bestowed  upon  the  learned — i.  e., 
those  who  had  almost  solely  studied  internal  medi¬ 
cine,  and  who  were  required  to  take  an  oath  to  main¬ 
tain  the  methods  which  had  been  taught  them.  For 
the  title  of  doctor  certain  fees  were  paid,  partly  in 


STUDENT  LIFE 


221 


money  and  partly  in  merchandise.  The  so-called 
presents  consisted  of  gloves,  clothes,  hats,  caps,  etc. 
At  Salernum  it  cost  about  $60  to  graduate  in  this 
way,  while  at  Paris  the  cost  was  sometimes  as  high 
as  $1,000,  and  this  at  a  time  when  money  had  much 
more  purchasing  value  than  it  has  to-day.  It  was 
then,  as  now,  a  peculiar  feature  of  the  English  uni¬ 
versities  that  but  little  systematic  instruction  in  med¬ 
ical  science  was  given.  Just  as  the  majority  of  Eng¬ 
lish  students  at  present  study  in  London  rather  than 
at  one  of  the  great  universities,  so  in  those  days  did 
they  go  to  Paris  or  Montpellier. 

This  will  be  perhaps  as  good  a  place  as  any  to 
emphasize  the  fact  that  the  clergy,  having  so  long 
monopolized  all  learning  and  teaching,  and  having, 
at  the  same  time,  an  abhorrence  for  the  shedding  of 
blood,  which  indeed  had  been  prohibited  by  many 
papal  bulls  and  royal  edicts,  permitted  the  practice 
of  the  operative  part  of  medicine — i.  e.,  surgery — 
to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  most  illiterate  and  in¬ 
competent  men.  Inasmuch  as  the  Church  prohibited 
the  wearing  of  beards,  and  as  many  of  the  religious 
orders  also  shaved  their  heads,  there  were  attached 
to  every  monastery  and  to  every  religious  order  a 
number  of  barbers,  whose  duty  was  to  take  care  of 
the  clergy  in  these  respects.  Thus  into  their  hands 
was  gradually  committed  the  performance  of  any 
minor  operation  which  involved  the  letting  of  blood, 
and  from  this,  as  a  beginning,  it  came  about  that  no 
really  educated  man  concerned  himself  with  the  oper- 


222 


STUDENT  LIFE 


ations  of  surgery,  but  left  them  entirely  to  the  illit¬ 
erate  servants  of  the  Church.  This  is  really  the  rea¬ 
son  that  the  barbers  for  many  centuries  did  nearly  all 
the  surgery,  and  why,  at  the  same  time,  surgery  fell 
into  such  general  and  wide-spread  disrepute.  From 
this  it  was  only  revived  about  one  hundred  years  ago. 
Did  time  permit,  this  would  be  a  most  appropriate 
place  to  digress  from  the  subject  of  this  paper  and  re¬ 
hearse  to  you  the  various  stages  in  the  evolution  of 
the  surgeon  from  the  barber;  but  time  does  not  per¬ 
mit  it,  and  it  constitutes  a  chapter  in  history  by  it¬ 
self,  which  must  be  relegated  to  some  other  occasion. 

(See  p.  296) . 

It  was  about  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century 
that  the  better  class  of  physicians  began  to  belong  to 
the  laity,  and  were  called  “physici”  in  contrast  to  the 
“clerici.”  Later  they  were  known  as  “doctores.”  Un¬ 
til  the  fourteenth  century  most  of  them  studied  in 
Italian  or  French  universities,  the  Germans  even  be¬ 
ing  compelled  to  go  to  these  foreign  institutions.  In 
Paris  they  were  required  to  take  an  oath  that  they 
would  not  join  the  surgeons.  This  regulation  was 
founded  as  much  upon  spite  and  envy  as  upon  any 
other  motive.  Many  of  the  clerical  physicians  be¬ 
longed  to  the  lower  class,  and  were  so  ignorant  that 
even  the  Church  itself  was  forced  to  declare  many  of 
their  successes  miracles.  Although  monks  and  the 
clergy  in  general  had  been  frequently  forbidden  to 
practice  medicine,  the  decrees  to  this  effect  were  quite 
generally  disregarded,  except  in  the  matter  of  sur- 


STUDENT  LIFE 


223 


gical  operations.  In  the  ranks  of  the  higher  clergy 
it  must  be  said  that  well-educated  physicians  were 
occasionally  found.  There  is,  for  instance,  the  rec¬ 
ord  of  a  certain  bishop  of  Basel,  who  was  deputed  to 
seek  from  Pope  Clement  V.  an  archbishopric  for 
another  person,  but  finding  the  Pope  seriously  ill, 
cured  him,  and  received  for  himself  in  return  the  elec¬ 
torate  of  Mayence,  which  was  perhaps  one  of  the 
largest  honorariums  ever  given  to  a  physician. 

These  were  the  days  when  magic,  mingled  with 
mystery,  played  no  small  role  in  the  practice  of  medi¬ 
cine,  and  when  disgusting  and  curious  remedies  were 
quite  in  vogue.  Superstition  and  ignorance  every¬ 
where  played  a  most  prominent  part.  For  instance, 
it  was,  in  those  days,  an  excellent  remedy  to  creep 
under  the  coffin  of  a  saint.  When  a  person  was 
poisoned  it  was  considered  wise  to  hang  him  up  by 
the  feet  and  perhaps  to  gouge  out  one  of  his  eyes,  in 
order  that  the  poison  might  run  out.  It  should  be 
noted  that  putting  out  the  eyes  was  frightfully  com¬ 
mon  in  the  Middle  Ages,  mainly  as  a  matter  of  pun¬ 
ishment.  It  is  said,  for  instance,  that  the  Emperor 
Basil  II.  on  one  occasion  put  out  the  eyes  of  15,000 
Bulgarians,  leaving  one  eye  to  one  of  every  thousand, 
in  order  that  he  might  lead  his  more  unfortunate  fel¬ 
low-sufferers  back  to  their  ruler,  who,  it  is  said,  at 
the  sight  of  this  outrage  swooned  and  died  in  two 
days.  It  is  said,  too,  that  this  is  the  reason  why  the 
Emperor  Albrecht  was  one-eyed. 

What  the  revival  of  learning  could  thus  and  did 


224 


STUDENT  LIFE 


accomplish  under  these  conditions  as  above  portrayed 
may  be  readily  appreciated.  The  restoration  of  Greek 
literature,  the  revival  of  anatomy,  the  habit  of  inde¬ 
pendent  observation — all  told  materially  in  this  re¬ 
naissance  of  medicine.  The  Italian  universities  be¬ 
came  the  objective  point  of  all  who  desired  a  thor¬ 
ough  medical  education.  The  students  chose  the 
lecturers  and  officers  of  the  university  and  had  a  large 
voice  in  the  construction  of  the  curriculum.  The 
officers  of  their  selection  negotiated  with  those  of  the 
State,  at  least  until  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

In  spite  of  this  general  renaissance  of  medical 
learning  and  the  impetus  felt  by  the  inspired  few 
during  the  sixteenth  century,  it  must  be  said  that  the 
general  condition  of  medical  science  and  of  those 
who  practised  it  was  not  greatly  improved.  The  su¬ 
perstition  of  the  common  people  and  the  timidity  and 
indolence  of  all  concerned  were  about  as  marked  as 
they  have  ever  been  in  the  history  of  human  error, 
and  the  practice  of  medicine  was  at  least  a  century 
behind  the  applied  knowledge  of  the  other  arts  and 
sciences.  At  that  time  the  best  physicians  and  doc¬ 
tors  were  to  be  found  in  the  Italian  universities,  the 
French  coming  next,  and,  last  of  all,  the  German. 
The  Italian  universities  were  the  Mecca  sought  by 
those  who  desired  the  best  education  of  the  day,  and 
of  all  the  Italian  medical  faculties  those  of  Bologna, 
Pisa,  and  Padua  ranked  highest. 

Those  were  the  days,  also,  of  the  travelling  schol¬ 
ars — a  very  marked  feature  of  mediaeval  life.  They 


STUDENT  LIFE 


225 


migrated  from  one  of  the  Latin  schools  to  another, 
and  from  one  famous  teacher  to  another,  sometimes 
travelling  alone,  at  other  times  in  groups  or  bands, 
and  practising  often  the  worst  barbarities  while  en 
route ,  supporting  themselves  by  begging  and  stealing. 
On  their  marches  they  stole  almost  everything  which 
was  not  tightly  fastened  down,  and  prepared  their 
food  even  in  the  open  fields.  The  result  was  that 
most  of  them  fell  into  dissolute  habits  of  life.  A 
somewhat  better  class  of  vagrant  students  sang  hymns 
before  doors  and  received  food  as  pay.  Some  earned 
money  singing  in  the  churches.  They  apparently  both 
drank  more  beer  and  at  less  cost  than  at  present.  At 
that  time  the  cost  of  beer  was  about  one  cent  for  a 
large  glass. 

The  younger  students  were  called  “schutzen,”  and, 
like  apprentices  in  trades,  were  obliged  to  perform 
the  most  menial  duties.  The  older  students  were 
known  as  the  “bacchanten,”  and  each  bacchant  was 
honored  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  “schutzen” 
who  waited  upon  him.  When,  however,  this  bac¬ 
chant  himself  reached  the  university  he  was  com¬ 
pelled  to  lay  aside  his  rough  clothing  and  rude  man¬ 
ners  and  take  an  oath  to  behave  himself. 

Not  only  the  students,  however,  wandered  from 
place  to  place,  but  even  the  professors  of  the  six¬ 
teenth  century  were  nomadic,  wrandering  from  one 
university  to  another;  for  example,  Vesalius,  the 
great  teacher  of  anatomy,  taught  in  Padua,  in  Pisa, 
in  Louvain,  in  Basel,  in  Augsburg,  and  in  Spain. 


226 


STUDENT  LIFE 


These  habits  may  be  partly  accounted  for  by  the  fact 
that  the  students  elected  at  least  some  of  their  teach¬ 
ers,  and  the  professors  who  failed  of  re-election  cer¬ 
tainly  may  be  considered  to  have  had  a  motive  for 
moving  on.  Salaries  were  certainly  not  large  in  those 
days.  Melanchthon,  the  great  theologian,  received 
during  his  first  eight  years  a  salary  of  $43  per  an¬ 
num,  and  by  strict  economy  was  able  during  this  peri¬ 
od  to  buy  his  wife  a  new  dress.  During  his  later 
years  his  salary  attained  the  sum  of  $170,  which 
would  be  equivalent  to  $750  to-day.  When  Vesalius 
died  his  salary  was  $1,000  per  annum,  to  which  cer¬ 
tain  fees  were  added.  It  is  not  strange,  therefore, 
that  many  of  the  professors  pursued  reputable  occu¬ 
pations  during  their  odd  hours  or  that  they  took  stu¬ 
dents  to  board.  We  hear  to-day  of  frequent  illustra¬ 
tions  of  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  under  difficulty,  but 
certainly  during  the  ages  to  which  I  have  referred  the 
ardent  student,  were  he  undergraduate  or  professor, 
put  up  with  an  amount  of  hardship,  meagre  fare,  and 
trouble  of  all  kinds  which  would  stagger  most  of  the 
young  men  of  to-day. 

Men  were  human  then  as  now,  and  the  universi¬ 
ties  were  not  above  disputes  and  quarrels,  which 
sometimes  became  very  bitter  and  dishonorable,  but 
were  the  indirect  instrument  of  good,  since  they  led 
in  not  a  few  instances  to  the  founding  of  other  uni¬ 
versities.  Thus,  about  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  Pistorius  and  Pollich  were  both  teachers  in 
Leipzig,  but  holding  antagonistic  views  regarding  the 


STUDENT  LIFE 


227 


nature  of  syphilis,  became  so  embittered  that  they 
could  not  bear  each  other’s  presence,  and  each  re¬ 
solved  to  seek  another  home.  The  former  influenced 
the  elector  to  select  Frankfort-on-the-Oder  as  the  site 
of  a  new  university,  while  the  latter  was  the  means 
of  founding  another  at  Wittenberg. 

It  is  pretty  hard  to  keep  away  from  the  relation 
of  the  barber  to  the  anatomist  and  surgeon  when  dis¬ 
cussing  this  subject.  In  another  place  I  have  dealt 
with  the  evolution  of  the  surgeon  from  the  barber, 
(See  page  296)  and  have  endeavored  to  show  that 
the  principal  factor  which  operated  to  keep  back  the 
progress  of  surgery  during  the  eighteen  centuries  pre¬ 
vious  to  the  last  was  the  influence  of  the  Church, 
which  opposed  the  study  of  anatomy  and  degraded 
the  practice  of  surgery.  In  the  times  to  which  I  am 
referring  now,  an  operation  which  caused  the  shed¬ 
ding  of  blood  was  considered  beneath  the  dignity  of 
an  educated  physician,  and,  in  some  circles,  was  re¬ 
garded  even  as  disreputable.  It  was,  therefore,  left 
to  the  only  class  of  men  who  were  supposed  to  know 
how  to  handle  a  knife  or  sharp  instrument,  i.  e.,  the 
barbers.  When  operations  were  done  in  universities 
papal  indulgences  were  often  required,  and  these  cost 
money,  since  in  those  days  the  Pope  gave  nothing  for 
nothing.  Public  dissection  required  also  papal  in¬ 
dulgences,  although  in  Strasburg,  in  1517,  permission 
to  dissect  the  body  of  an  executed  criminal  was  grant¬ 
ed  by  the  magistrates  in  spite  of  papal  prohibition. 

The  ceremonies  attending  demonstrations  of  this 


228 


STUDENT  LIFE 


kind  were  both  fantastic  and  amusing.  A  corpse  was 
ordinarily  regarded  as  disreputable,  and  had  first  to 
be  made  reputable  by  reading  a  decree  to  that  effect 
from  the  chief  magistrate  or  lord  of  the  land,  and 
then,  by  order  of  the  University,  stamping  the  body 
with  the  seal  of  the  corporation.  It  was  carried  upon 
the  cover  of  the  box  in  which  it  had  been  transported 
into  the  anatomical  hall,  which  cover,  upon  which  it 
rested  through  the  ceremonies,  was  taken  back  af¬ 
terward  to  the  executioner,  who  remained  at  some 
distance  with  his  vehicle.  If  the  corpse  was  that  of 
one  who  had  been  beheaded,  the  head  during  the  per¬ 
formance  of  these  solemn  ceremonies  lay  between  its 
legs.  After  the  completion  of  the  ceremonies  the  oc¬ 
casion  was  graced  with  music  by  the  city  fifers,  trum¬ 
peters,  etc.,  or  an  entertainment  was  given  by  itiner¬ 
ant  actors  (Baas) . 

In  time,  however,  this  folly  was  given  up,  and  by 
the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  century  public  an¬ 
atomical  theatres  were  established.  The  most  cele¬ 
brated  was  built  by  Fabricus  ab  Aquapendente,  in 
Padua.  It  was  so  high,  however,  and  so  dark  that 
dissections  even  in  broad  daylight  could  only  be  made 
visible  by  torchlight. 

The  zeal  with  which  gradually  the  better  class  of 
physicians  pursued  their  scientific  studies  became  more 
and  more  conspicuous,  evidenced  in  many  ways  by 
the  hardships  with  which  some  of  them  had  to  deal, 
as  witness  the  struggles  of  many  of  the  great  anatom¬ 
ists  of  those  days. 


STUDENT  LIFE 


229 


And  so  in  time  the  clergy  disappeared  almost  en¬ 
tirely  from  the  ranks  of  public  physicians,  and  after 
the  Thirty  Years’  War  completely  lost  their  suprem¬ 
acy  even  in  literary  matters,  this  being  gradually 
usurped  by  the  nobility  and  the  more  educated  lay¬ 
men;  but  even  then  knowledge  was  pursued  under 
difficulties,  especially  the  study  of  anatomy.  It  was 
not  until  1658  that  a  mounted  skeleton  could  be  found 
in  Vienna.  Strasburg  obtained  one  in  1671.  The 
handling  of  the  dead  body,  which  we  regard  as  so 
necessary,  was  in  those  days  avoided  as  much  as  pos¬ 
sible.  The  professor  of  anatomy  rarely,  if  ever, 
touched  it  himself,  but  he  lectured  or  read  a  lecture 
while  the  actual  dissection  was  done  with  a  razor  by 
a  barber,  under  his  supervision. 

Practical  instruction  in  obstetrics,  which  would 
seem  almost  as  important  as  that  in  anatomy,  was 
not  given  in  those  days;  male  students  only  studied 
it  theoretically.  In  the  Hotel  Dieu,  in  Paris,  that 
part  which  was  devoted  to  instruction  in  midwifery 
was  closed  against  men.  It  was  the  midwives  in  those 
days  who  enjoyed  the  monopoly  of  this  teaching,  and 
upon  whom  the  greatest  dependence  for  obstetrical 
ability  was  placed.  The  physicians  proper,  or  media 
puri  of  the  seventeenth  century,  were  individuals  of 
greatest  dignity  and  profoundest  gravity,  who  wore 
fur-trimmed  robes,  perukes,  and  carried  swords,  who 
considered  it  beneath  them  to  do  anything  more  than 
write  prescriptions  in  the  old  Galenic  fashion.  Some 
continuation  of  this  is  seen  in  the  distinction  made 


230 


STUDENT  LIFE 


even  to-day  in  England  between  the  physicians  who 
enjoy  the  title  of  doctor  and  the  surgeons  who  affect 
to  disdain  it.  These  old  physicians  knowing  nothing 
of  surgery,  nevertheless  demanded  to  be  always  con¬ 
sulted  in  surgical  cases,  claiming  that  only  by  this 
course  could  things  go  right.  Still  when  elements  of 
danger  were  introduced,  as  in  treating  the  plague, 
they  were  glad  enough  to  send  the  barber  surgeons 
into  the  presence  of  the  sick,  whom  they  merely  in¬ 
spected  through  panes  of  glass.  Very  entertaining 
pictures  could  be  furnished  you  illustrating  the  habits 
of  the  physicians  of  two  or  three  hundred  years  ago 
in  dealing  with  these  contagious  cases.  The  masks 
and  armor  which  they  wore  and  the  precautions  which 
they  took  would  seem  to  indicate  protection  rather 
against  the  weapons  of  mediaeval  warfare.  At  one 
time  they  were  advised  that  if  they  must  go  into  ac¬ 
tual  contact  with  these  patients  they  should  first  re¬ 
peat  the  Twenty-second  Psalm.  You  may  find  in  the 
old  books,  if  you  will  hunt  for  them,  curious  pictures 
illustrating  the  precautions  taken  a  few  hundred  years 
ago  against  the  pestilence,  of  whose  nature  they  knew 
nothing,  and  seeing  them  you  may  imagine  the  vague 
dread  and  even  the  abject  fear  which  led  the  physici 
puri  or  physicians  to  send  the  barbers  in  to  minister 
to  plague-stricken  patients,  while  they  contented  them¬ 
selves  with  ministering  at  long  range  to  their  needs. 

But  gentlemen,  I  fear  lest  I  weary  you  with  a  long¬ 
er  rehearsal  of  mediaeval  customs  and  student  follies. 
While  they  have  all  passed  away  some  of  them  have 


STUDENT  LIFE 


231 


survived  either  in  tradition  or  in  modified  form,  as 
will  surely  have  occurred  to  you  while  they  were  re¬ 
hearsed.  You  will  not  fail  to  note  the  steady  progress 
of  an  ethical  evolution  which  has  toned  down  the 
barbarities  and  the  asperities  of  the  past,  and  which 
has  substituted  a  far  more  ennobling  life-purpose  and 
method  of  its  accomplishment  than  seemed  to  actuate 
your  predecessors  of  long  ago. 

It  is  small  wonder  that  the  students  of  those  days 
bore  an  ill-repute  with  their  surrounding  neighbors. 
You  may  see  better  now,  perhaps,  why  the  medical 
student  even  of  to-day  has  to  contend  with  a  preju¬ 
dice  against  both  his  calling  and  himself,  a  prejudice 
begotten  of  the  many  debaucheries  and  misdeeds  of 
his  predecessors,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  even  cer¬ 
tain  excesses  of  to-day.  I  do  not  know  how  I  may 
more  fittingly  terminate  these  remarks  than  by  re¬ 
minding  you  that  the  profession  which  you  students 
hope  to  enter  has  suffered  most  seriously  in  time  past 
from  the  character  of  the  men  who  have  entered  it, 
and  that  even  to-day  certain  of  its  members  fail  to 
have  a  proper  regard  for  its  dignity.  It  is  axiomatic 
that  those  slights  and  indignities  from  which  we  often 
suffer,  and  the  neglect  and  indifference  of  which  we 
often  complain,  are  in  effect  the  result  of  our  own 
shortcomings,  and  that  we  are  ourselves  largely  to 
blame  because  of  that  which  does  not  suit  us.  I  beg 
you  then  to  remember  that  even  at  the  outset  of  stu¬ 
dent  life  there  should  be  ever  before  you  such  an 
ideal  of  intellectual  force  and  dignity,  of  power,  of 


232 


STUDENT  LIFE 


co-ordination  of  mind  and  body,  as  may  keep  you 
ever  in  the  right  way,  so  that  when  you  at  last  at¬ 
tain  your  goal  you  may  deserve  that  sort  of  benedic¬ 
tion  which  I  find  in  one  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher’s 
plays  ( Custom  of  the  Country ,  v.  iv. )  : 

uSo  may  you  ever 

Be  styled  the  ‘Hands  of  Heaven,’  Nature’s  restorers; 
Get  wealth  and  honors,  and,  by  your  success 
In  all  your  undertakings,  propagate 
A  great  opinion  in  the  world.” 


IX 


A  STUDY  OF  MEDICAL  WORDS,  DEEDS 

AND  MEN* 


Study  nature  for  facts;  study  lives  of  great  men  for 
inspiration  how  to  use  them 

EVER  have  I  more  earnestly  craved  the 
gift  of  eloquence  than  on  occasions  like 
this,  when  young  men  are  about  to  leave 
the  halls  in  which  and  the  men  with  whom 
they  have  grown  into  man’s  estate,  in  order  to  as¬ 
sume  the  solemn  and  weighty  responsibilities  not  only 
of  their  own  lives  but  those  as  well  of  others.  The 
day  upon  which  you  are  thus  released  from  duties  of 
one  kind  to  assume  those  of  another,  welcome  and 
joyous  though  it  may  be,  should  nevertheless  be  in¬ 
terspersed  with  some  serious  and  earnest  thoughts 
and  resolutions.  Old  Yale  sets  now  her  stamp  upon 
you.  It  will  prove  a  passport  to  many  homes,  but  must 
never  be  abused.  It  will  entitle  you  to  the  society 
of  the  cultivated  and  to  the  respect  of  scholars  every¬ 
where.  It  will  admit  you  to  the  ranks  of  the  learned 
and  cause  you  to  be  treated  with  respect  and  equality 
by  some  of  the  profoundest  and  most  scholarly  think¬ 
ers  the  world  has  even  known.  Yale  has  now  fur- 


*Address  in  Medicine,  delivered  June  24,  1902,  at  Yale  Uni¬ 
versity  Commencement. 

[Reprinted  from  the  Yale  Medical  Journal ,  July,  1902.] 

233 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


nished  you  with  that  which  her  ripe  experience  has 
shown  to  be  requisite  for  young  men  commencing  pro¬ 
fessional  careers.  As  contrasted  with  the  total  of  hu¬ 
man  knowledge  its  aggregate  is  not  large,  but  it  has 
not  for  centuries  been  the  custom  for  men  to  grow 
gray  in  studies  before  undertaking  to  practice  medi¬ 
cine,  and  when  your  own  qualifications  are  compared 
with  those  which  we  of  the  passing  generation  pos¬ 
sessed  at  the  corresponding  period  of  our  lives,  the 
comparison  will  furnish  at  the  same  time  the  most 
startling  illustration  of  the  rapid  advance  of  medicine 
in  the  past  twenty-five  years. 

Yale  has  always  been  eminent  for  the  versatility 
and  originality  of  her  teachers.  Her  medical  history 
has  been  so  well  told  during  the  past  year  by  one  of 
her  most  honored  sons,  Dr.  Welch,  that  it  is  not 
necessary  nor  wise  to  go  now  into  such  historical  de¬ 
tails.  The  trend  of  science  to-day  is  along  the  lines 
of  comparative  investigation,  and  the  Bible  is  by  no 
means  the  only  literary  collection  which  to-day  is 
being  subjected  to  the  “higher  criticism.”  The  in¬ 
spiration  claimed  for  the  contributors  to  that  great 
ancient  Collection  is  denied  to  the  writers  of  great 
modern  works,  where,  nevertheless,  fundamental 
truth  is  as  requisite  for  the  welfare  of  the  body  as  in 
the  other  for  that  of  the  soul.  Only  by  painstaking 
research,  laboriously  repeated,  do  we  clear  the  old 
paths  of  the  rubbish  of  centuries  or  discover  totally 
new  ones. 

Pathfinders  of  this  description  have  always  abound- 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


235 


ed  in  this  great  institution,  drawn  by  common  im¬ 
pulses  or  attracted  by  some  centripetal  force.  And 
though  it  were  perhaps  invidious  to  mention  names,  I 
nevertheless  must  select  two  of  Yale’s  great  teachers 
whose  names  are  still  green  in  the  memory  of  all 
men,  and  ask  you  to  note  how  the  examples  they  have 
set  and  the  work  they  have  done  may  furnish  the  line 
of  thought  in  which  I  wish  you  to  follow  me  for  a 
little  while. 

The  science  of  comparative  philology  would  seem 
to  be  far  removed  from  that  of  medicine.  Still,  it  is 
based  upon  an  ultimate  analysis  of  parts  of  speech, 
and  men  like  Professor  Whitney  were,  not  only  the 
comparative  anatomists,  but  even  the  histologists— 
if  I  may  use  the  phrase — -of  words.  Comparative 
philology  then  is  to  medical  terminology  what  em¬ 
bryology  and  comparative  anatomy  are  to  a  study  of 
the  structure  of  the  human  body.  The  philologist 
loves  to  dissect  words  and  trace  them  back  through 
rudimentary  stages  and  roots  to  their  earliest  forms. 
He  loves  also  to  study  the  evolution  of  an  idea  as 
conveyed  by  a  word,  and  trace  atavism  or  reversion 
in  human  speech. 

Again  you  have  here  at  Yale  a  wonderful  collec¬ 
tion  of  extinct  animal  remains  restored  with  mar¬ 
vellous  accuracy  to  semblance  of  their  original  form 
and  appearance.  The  indefatigable  industry  and 
wonderful  ability  of  Professor  Marsh  and  his  co¬ 
workers  have  enabled  us  to  form  ideographs  of  the 
living  forms  of  earlier  geologic  ages  upon  this  earth, 


236  WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


which  could  not  have  been  furnished  had  it  not  been 
for  their  remarkable  knowledge  of  morphology  and 
skill  in  synthesis.  Indeed,  where  have  powers  of 
analysis  and  synthesis  been  more  brilliantly  displayed 
than  by  these  men.  It  used  to  be  said  of  Cuvier,  the 
great  French  comparative  anatomist,  that  if  given  a 
tooth  from  any  beast,  past  or  present,  he  could  de¬ 
scribe  the  animal  and  its  habits  as  well  as  reconstruct 
his  skeleton,  so  wonderfully  are  minute  differences 
perpetuated,  and  so  familiar  was  he  with  them. 

Let  us  see,  then,  if  it  be  possible  to  take  some  of 
our  common  medical  words  and  by  applying  to  them 
the  methods  of  Whitney  and  of  Marsh  follow  them 
back  to  their  early  forms  and  significances,  and  then 
construct  from  them  ideographs  of  the  customs,  hab¬ 
its  and  superstitions  of  the  men  who  used  them. 
Such  a  plan  systematically  carried  out  might  furnish 
both  a  fitting  and  a  novel  introduction  to  the  history 
of  medicine.  Coleridge,  you  know,  said  we  might  of¬ 
ten  derive  more  useful  knowledge  from  the  history 
of  a  word  than  from  the  history  of  a  campaign. 

Take,  for  instance,  our  word  idiocy.  The  Greeks, 
especially  the  Athenians,  were  a  race  of  politicians. 
Private  citizens  who  cared  little  or  naught  for  office 
were  the  idiotai,  as  distinguished  from  the  public  of¬ 
ficials  and  office  holders.  It  came  about  in  time  that 
men  of  such  retiring  habits  and  modest  tastes  were 
regarded  as  persons  of  degraded  intellect  and  taste. 
And  so  the  iviwrai  were  considered  of  inferior  intel¬ 
lectual  capacity.  In  other  words,  the  idiot  of  those 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


237 


days  was  the  man  content  with  private  life.  How 
different  from  the  present  day  when  conditions  seem 
so  nearly  reversed. 

Our  kindred  word  imbecile  has  also  present  refer¬ 
ence  to  those  of  feeble,  dwarfed  or  perverted  intel¬ 
lect,  and  refers  rather  to  mental  than  physical  defects, 
though  both  must  often  be  associated.  But  originally 
the  lame  and  the  deformed  who  were  obliged  to  use 
artificial  support,  walked  as  it  was  said,  in  bacillum, 
upon  a  stick  or  crutch,  and  from  this  expression  we 
derive  our  word  imbecile. 

Let  us  trace,  for  instance,  again,  the  etymology  of 
our  word  palate.  The  Latin  palatum  is  the  same  as 
balatum,  that  is,  the  bleating  part.  The  ancient  shep¬ 
herds  of  the  region  of  the  Campagna  watched  the 
sheep  as  they  went  bleating  ( balatans )  over  those 
hills,  one  of  which  subsequently  became  the  Palatine. 

Or  take  again  our  word  mania.  It  is  derived  from 
unv  the  moon,  meaning  the  moon — sickness,  and  cor¬ 
responds  to  lunacy  from  luna.  You  see  the  ancient 
superstition  concerning  the  influence  of  the  moon 
abides  in  the  name.  This  brings  up  again  the  old 
ideas  concerning  the  metal  silver  which  was  sacred 
alike  to  Diana  and  the  moon,  and  consequently  femi¬ 
nine  in  sex  and  attributes.  Hence  comes  the  me¬ 
diaeval  alchemistic  term  lunar  caustic,  and  hence,  too, 
comes  its  use  in  the  treatment  of  epilepsy  for  which  it 
was  formerly  much  in  use,  since  epilepsy  was  regard¬ 
ed  as  a  form  of  mania  caused  by  the  evil  influence  of 
the  moon. 


238  WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


By  the  way,  this  may  also  remind  us  of  the  pecu¬ 
liar  views  of  the  alchemists  of  the  middle  ages,  who 
believed  that  the  property  of  sex  inhered  in  the  met¬ 
als.  They  believed,  for  example,  that  arsenic  was 
masculine  in  sex,  and  so  named  it  from  arsen,  male, 
and  arsenikos,  masculine.  Medical,  like  compara¬ 
tive  philology,  is  the  more  or  less  direct  outcome  of 
the  earth’s  physical  features  as  they  have  influenced 
the  commingling  of  races  and  the  conquest  of  nations. 

Medicine  seems  a  science  of  Aryan  parentage;  in 
the  Sanscrit  the  literature  of  medicine  is  rich;  it  was 
cultivated  by  the  Greeks,  but  it  lost  much  of  its  orig¬ 
inal  significance  by  virtue  of  Roman  supremacy,  as 
the  Latin  races  took  it  over.  Under  the  Arabians 
it  flourished  after  a  fashion.  With  the  revival  of 
Greek  learning  there  was  a  restoration  of  much  that 
had  been  lost,  but  the  supremacy  of  the  Church  kept 
it  within  extremely  narrow  limits,  though  the  clericals 
could  not  eliminate  all  the  Arabian  words  which  had 
crept  into  its  terminology.  Greek  is  to-day  the 
language  to  which  we  turn  for  aid  when  it  becomes 
necessary  to  invent  new  terms  by  which  to  indicate 
fresh  discoveries  or  concepts. 

The  debt  of  medicine  to  our  Aryan  forefathers  is 
great.  Surgery  was  then  a  dignified  branch  of  the 
science.  Their  autoplastic  methods  were  conceived 
with  great  ingenuity  and  carried  out  with  much,  al¬ 
beit  with  crude  skill.  The  so-called  Indian  method 
of  reconstructing  a  nose  bears  witness  to  their  ability 
in  plastic  art.  Their  itinerant  surgeons  performed 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


239 


many  capital  operations;  i.  e.,  lithotomy  and  coeliot- 
omy.  There  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  Hippo- 
crites  knew  nothing  of  practical  anatomy,  whereas, 
long  before  him  Susruta  urged  that  all  physician 
priests  should  dissect  the  human  body  in  order  that 
they  might  know  its  structure;  and  gave,  moreover, 
directions  for  the  selection  of  suitable  subjects.  The 
Sanscrit  writers  knew  the  properties  of  many  plants 
and  of  at  least  five  of  the  metals.  Many  Greek  names 
of  drugs  are  derived  from  the  Sanscrit,  or  else  they 
had  a  common  Aryan  origin.  Thus  the  Greek  equiv¬ 
alents  for  our  words  castor,  musk,  cardamon,  chest¬ 
nut,  hemp,  mace,  pepper,  sandal-wood,  ginger,  nerve, 
marrow,  bone,  heart,  and  head,  are  unmistakably  of 
much  older,  i.  e.,  Sanscrit  or  Aryan  stock,  several  of 
them  coming  down  in  Romanized  form,  but  almost 
unchanged — e.  g.,  os,  cor,  moschus,  cannabis,  cas- 
torion. 

Although  many  of  the  ancient  Greeks  visited  In¬ 
dia,  it  appears  that  but  relatively  few  words  have 
come  to  us  from  this  ancient  source. 

Our  word  sulphur,  though,  is  of  Sanscrit  origin, 
the  Greek  work  theion  indicating  its  divine  or  god- 
given  purifying  power,  with  possible  allusion  to  its 
utility  in  that  lower  world  with  which  the  theologians 
most  often  associate  it.  The  Greek  word  appears 
in  our  chemical  nomenclature  as  dithionic,  trithionic, 
etc. 

We  note  also  an  almost  complete  absence  of  Egyp¬ 
tian  words,  though  many  cultured  Greeks  visited 


240 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


Egypt.  Nevertheless,  the  latter  looked  with  small 
favor  on  barbarisms  of  speech,  and  our  word  pyra¬ 
mid  is  one  of  the  very  few  which  they  thus  adopted. 
The  term  surgery  is  of  very  distinct  Greek  origin,  and 
meant  handwork  as  distinguished  from  the  action  of 
internal  remedies.  Medicine  seems  to  be  derived 
from  medeo  to  take  care  of,  to  provide,  and  physic 
and  physician  from  phnsis,  i.  e.,  nature.  The  physici 
were  originally  naturalists,  or  scientists,  like  Aristotle, 
medical  science  being  but  a  part  of  their  study.  Camp¬ 
bell  in  his  book  (“The  Language  of  Medicine”) 
gives  a  list  of  at  least  two  dozen  common  terms  of 
to-day  which  were  employed  by  Homer.  In  addition 
to  these,  many  other  Homeric  terms  are  still  in  use, 
but  with  more  or  less  altered  or  perverted  meanings; 
for  example,  aether,  when  used  in  the  sense  of  its  being 
a  narcotic  agency;  astragalus,  which  originally  meant 
a  die,  since  the  analogous  bones  of  the  sheep  were 
used  for  dice;  amoeba,  from  amoibe ,  change  or  alter¬ 
ation,  alluding  to  constant  change  of  shape.  Am¬ 
mon  originally  meant  a  young  lamb,  iris  a  halo,  me¬ 
conium  has  reference  to  the  juice  of  the  poppy,  from 
mekon }  opium;  molybdenum  was  so  named  from  its 
resemblance  to  lead,  narcosis  originally  meant  numb¬ 
ness  ;  the  pleura  was  the  side ;  the  original  phial  was 
a  saucer;  the  phalanges  were  so  called  because  they 
were  arranged  side  by  side  as  it  were  in  a  phalanx; 
our  troche  was  at  first  a  wheel;  and  our  tympanum 
was  the  original  Greek  drum,  the  word  still  persist¬ 
ing  in  musical  terminology.  The  arteries  were  so 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


241 


named  because  they  were  supposed  to  contain  air, 
while  the  veins  were  the  gushers,  from  phleo,  to  gush 
or  flow.  The  original  confusion  of  nerves  and  ten¬ 
dons  appears  in  the  term  aponeurosis. 

Long  ago  there  were  two  rival  medical  factions 
among  the  Greeks,  the  Empirics,  from  empeirikos, 
meaning  experimental — who  believed  there  were  no 
philosophic  underlying  principles  of  medical  science, 
and  that  experience  alone  was  the  safe  guide, — and 
the  Methodists,  from  methodos,  who  believed  it  bet¬ 
ter  to  follow  the  hodos,  or  ‘‘middle  of  the  road.”  The 
present  use  of  the  word  empiric  shows  the  contempt 
with  which  the  former  came  to  be  regarded. 

As  cure  (euro)  meant  to  care  for,  so  did  medicus 
have  the  same  meaning,  as  already  remarked,  while 
the  Greek  slave,  therapon ,  who  waited  on  his  master, 
became  later  the  therapeutist  who  cared  for  his  ail¬ 
ments.  Our  word  to  heal  has  also  a  somewhat  sim¬ 
ilar  dislocated  meaning,  since  originally  it  meant  pro¬ 
tection,  i.  e.,  covering.  The  same  root  persists  in 
hell,  i.  e.,  hades,  referring  to  a  certain  supposititious 
locality  so  well  covered  that  from  it  there  is  no 
escape. 

Note,  too,  the  influence  of  ancient  mythology  in 
medical  phraseology.  Jupiter  Ammon,  the  horned 
god,  is  recognized  in  hartshorn  or  ammonia.  Mars, 
the  god  of  war,  whose  symbol  is  iron,  persists  in  the 
so-called  martial  preparations  or  ferruginous  tonics. 
Venus  and  Aphrodite  naturally  appear  in  venereal 
and  aphrodisiac,  while  Vulcan’s  role  is  indicated  in 


242 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


the  heat  to  which  caoutchouc  is  subjected  in  vulcaniz¬ 
ing  rubber.  Mercury  appears  not  only  in  Roman 
form  as  a  metal,  but  in  his  Greek  role  as  Hermes,  not 
to  be  forgotten  when  receptacles  are  hermetically 
sealed.  Let  us  cut  short  a  longer  list  by  simply  not¬ 
ing  in  passing  how  the  Greek  Cupid  Eros  and  his 
mate  Psyche  are  perpetuated  in  our  terms  erotic  and 
psychiatry,  while  Morpheus,  the  god  of  sleep,  can 
never  be  forgotten  so  long  as  morphine  is  in  use. 
That  the  wrath  of  the  gods  was  to  be  dreaded  is 
indicated  in  our  word  plague,  from  plege,  meaning 
a  blow  from  that  source,  that  is  their  vengeance.  You 
thus  see  the  antiquity  of  the  notion  that  epidemics 
were  a  divine  visitation,  and  not  due  to  bad  sanita¬ 
tion. 

Melancholia,  tnelas  and  chole,  meant  originally 
black  bile.  In  ancient  physiology  the  bile  played  a 
very  important  part,  and  the  results  of  hepatic  insuf¬ 
ficiency  were  not  only  indicated  by  this  name,  but  the 
advantages  of  the  use  of  calomel  were  amply  empha¬ 
sized  by  its  name,  kalos  and  melas,  for  it  was  a  beau¬ 
tiful  remedy  for  this  blackness.  Another  condition 
indicating  trouble  with  the  liver,  which  we  call  jaun¬ 
dice  to-day  (from  the  French  j aunts se ),  was  known 
as  icterus  from  ikteros,  a  yellow  bird.  The  poultice 
which  the  average  housewife  of  to-day  is  so  fond  of 
using,  was  originally  a  poltos,  or  pudding,  or  per¬ 
haps  a  bean  porridge. 

In  the  days  of  ancient  sacrifices  one  part  of 
the  animal  was  not  placed  upon  the  altar  as  an  offer- 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


243 


ing  to  delight  the  gods.  It  was  that  now  known  as 
the  sacrum,  which  is  usually  defined  to  have  been  con¬ 
sidered  the  sacred  bone.  The  adjective  sacer  (sac¬ 
rum),  had  not  only  the  meaning  generally  ascribed 
to  it,  but  meant  also  execrable,  detestable,  accursed. 
The  sacrum  meant  then  rather  the  part  that  was  not 
acceptable  to  those  to  whom  it  was  offered.  The 
word  calculus,  like  the  term  to  calculate,  must  re¬ 
mind  us  of  the  presence  of  pebbles  and  their  early  use 
in  facilitating  reckoning,  while  our  common  terms 
testimony,  testify,  must  necessarily  recall  the  ancient 
sacred  but  phallic  methods  of  oath-taking.  Another 
superstition  connected  with  deity  is  perpetuated  in  the 
term  iliac  passion,  formerly  applied  to  volvulus,  or 
one  form  of  acute  bowel  obstruction  with  its  violent 
pain,  which  has  been  compared  to  that  produced  by 
the  spear-point  as  part  of  the  suffering  upon  the  cross. 

A  keen  analysis  of  the  situation  at  the  beginning 
of  the  Christian  Era  reveals  the  subtlety  of  the  Greek 
character.  The  names  of  those  organs  which  called 
for  deep  investigation  or  dissection  are  taken  directly 
from  the  Greek,  e.  g.,  hepatic,  sphenoid,  ethmoid,  the 
aorta,  while  many  of  the  superficial  parts  have  Latin 
names,  e.  g.,  temporal,  frontal. 

It  is  to  the  Greek  that  all  nations  almost  invariablv 
turn  when  they  seek  to  fashion  new  terms  with  which 
to  characterize  or  name  new  discoveries.  The  Ro¬ 
mans  showed  their  appreciation  of  that  wdiich  was 
good  when  they  so  readily  adopted  the  science  and 
learning  of  the  Greeks,  and  were  willing  to  take  over 


244 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


even  their  gods.  The  Latin  races  have  always  been 
good  imitators  but  poor  originators,  save  perhaps 
in  war  and  politics.  Had  they  been  willing  to  imi¬ 
tate  the  Greeks  in  these  their  history  might  have  been 
very  different.  When  the  Latin  translators  of  Greek 
medical  literature  lacked  for  a  word  they  cheerfully 
took  the  original,  sometimes  giving  it  a  Latin  dress. 
For  instance,  that  which  we  now  call  the  duodenum, 
meaning  only  twelve,  was  originally  the  dodekadaktu- 
lon,  meaning  that  it  was  of  a  length  equal  to  the 
width  of  twelve  fingers,  while  they  twisted  the  name 
eileon ,  the  twisted  intestine,  into  ileum.  But  the 
names  of  most  diseases,  like  those  of  the  more  con¬ 
cealed  parts,  they  copied  almost  exactly. 

While  in  later  ages  the  Church  completely  dom¬ 
inated,  then  subordinated,  and  then  finally  almost  ter¬ 
minated  the  study  of  the  natural  sciences,  it  is  yet  of 
no  small  interest  to  note  the  effect  of  the  rise  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  upon  the  study  of  medicine.  It  has  been  well 
said  that  the  same  “cross  which  brought  light  to  re¬ 
ligion  cast  a  gloom  over  philosophy”  (Campbell). 
Certain  it  is  that  the  creed  and  the  tenets  which  were 
for  centuries  the  mainstay  of  Christianity,  and  which 
did  so  much  for  the  uplifting  of  mankind,  were  made 
the  excuse  for  the  gradual  suppression  of  all  tendency 
toward  investigation  of  natural  phenomena,  and  the 
monasteries,  where  scholars  congregated,  became  the 
graves  of  scientific  thought  and  study.  And  so  in 
time  knowledge  was  exiled  from  Christian  domiciles 
and  transplanted  to  a  Mohammedan  environment. 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


245 


..  With  Christian  mythology  and  mysticism  soon  came 
also  Christian  demonolgy,  and  disease  was  generally 
regarded  as  an  evidence  of  diabolical  possession.  This 
gave  rise  then,  as  even  now,  to  the  imposters  who 
pretended  to  cure  it  by  exorcism  of  evil  spirits  or  in¬ 
vocation  of  divine  or  superhuman  aid.  It  has  always 
been  a  sorry  time  for  rational  medicine  when  super¬ 
stition  is  rife.  Even  under  the  Arabians  science 
flourished  to  but  a  limited  extent.  Their  religion 
forbade  the  portrayal  of  any  living  object,  animal  or 
vegetable,  consequently  their  works  contained  mere 
descriptions,  never  any  illustration  of  any  kind.  This, 
by  the  way,  is  the  explanation  of  their  fondness  for 
geometric  tracery  and  of  the  richness  of  their  orna¬ 
mental  designs.  They  professed  the  same  horror  of 
the  dead  body  that  was  later  inculcated  by  the 
Church  and  most  of  them  scorned  dissection.  What 
wonder  then  that  under  Christianity  and  Islam  alike 
our  profession  fared  badly. 

But  very  little  now  remains  in  our  terminology  to 
remind  us  of  the  period  of  Arabian  supremacy.  The 
Arabic  words  naphtha,  sumach,  alkali,  alcohol, 
elixir  and  nucha  (neck)  are  almost  the  only  ones 
which  have  survived  the  renaissance.  How  different 
the  monkish  Latin  sometimes  is  from  the  classic  may 
appear  in  the  use  of  the  two  words  os  and  bucca  for 
mouth,  or  os  frontis  and  glabella  for  the  frontal 
bone. 

But  this  enumeration  must  not  be  prolonged  un¬ 
duly.  Let  us  select  three  or  four  more  examples  al- 


2 46  WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


most  at  random  and  then  pass  on.  But  few  will  as¬ 
sociate  Christianity  with  cretinism.  The  early  Chris¬ 
tian  inhabitants  of  the  Pyrenees  were  known  as 
Ckristaas,  or  in  French,  as  to-day,  as  Chretiens.  A 
mountainous  region  did  for  them  what  it  has  done 
in  Switzerland  for  the  races  of  to-day,  and  dwarfed 
the  intellects  of  many  while  their  thyroids  underwent 
great  enlargement.  Such  degenerates  are  known 
everywhere  to-day  as  cretins,  i.  e.,  Christians. 

Tarentum  was  the  old  Calabrian  city  later  known 
as  Tarento,  where  during  the  middle  ages  the  danc¬ 
ing  mania  appeared  in  aggravated  form.  The  frenzy 
was  known  in  consequence  as  tar  autism,  while  the 
spider  whose  bite  was  supposed  to  cause  it  was  called 
tarantula,  and  a  rapid  dance  music  which  alone 
would  suit  such  rapid  movements  is  still  known  as  the 
tarantella. 

Nightmare  has  reference  to  the  old  Norse  deity  or 
demigod  Mara,  who  was  supposed  to  strangle  peo¬ 
ple  during  sleep. 

The  Sardonic  grin  has  reference  to  a  tradition 
that  in  Sardinia  was  found  a  plant  which  when  eaten 
caused  people  to  laugh  so  violently  that  they  died. 

But  turn  we  now  from  words  to  those  deeds  which 
are  reputed  to  proclaim  yet  more  loudly  the  manner 
and  the  worth  of  their  authors.  Where  may  one  look 
for  a  profession  which  shall  afford  greater  opportuni¬ 
ties?  And  where  may  he  find  one  in  which  incentives 
are  so  small?  The  world’s  great  rewards  have  been 
paid  to  the  great  destroyers  of  our  race  rather  than 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


247 


to  its  saviors.  Do  you  suppose  that  if  Napoleon  had 
saved  as  many  lives  as  he  lost  he  would  have  figured 
in  history  with  his  present  lustre?  It  is  true  that 
Lister’s  discovery  has  saved  many  more  lives  than 
Napoleon  took.  If  so,  the  Hotel  des  Invalides  should, 
when  the  time  comes,  contain  Lister’s  monument  and 
not  that  of  a  great  murderer. 

Personal  courage  is  one  of  the  noblest  characteris¬ 
tics  which  any  man  can  display,  particularly  so  when 
it  combines  the  moral  and  the  physical  type.  Public 
bravery  brings  nearly  always  its  meed  of  public  recog¬ 
nition.  In  fact,  publicity  is  often  the  stimulus  to  a 
kind  of  bravery  which  without  it  would  hardly  re¬ 
spond  to  the  tests.  But  your  really  courageous  man 
is  he  who  cares  not  for  a  search-light  to  reveal  his 
deeds,  one  who  dares  and  does  within  the  quietude 
of  his  own  environment  that  from  which  his  weaker 
brothers  would  shrink. 

The  soldier  stirred  to  frenzy  by  the  intensity  of  his 
passion  will  accomplish  with  but  little  dread  that 
which  might  easily  baffle  the  resolution  of  a  reason¬ 
ing  man  in  a  calm  mood.  The  religious  fanatic,  be 
he  Mussulman  or  Christian,  may  permit  himself  to 
be  rent  asunder  rather  than  recant;  but  his  motives 
are  essentially  selfish,  since  he  looks  forward  to  the 
Mohammedan’s  or  the  Christian’s  paradise,  and  so 
they  are  far  from  altruistic.  But  for  that  quiet  hero¬ 
ism  which  shuns  publicity,  which  calls  for  the  highest 
quality  of  both  mental  and  physical  courage,  which 
looks  forward  neither  to  the  golden  present  nor  the 


248  WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


mystical  yet  sensuous  future,  commend  me  daily,  yes 
hourly,  to  the  sick  rooms  of  patients  suffering  from 
diseases  which  menace  the  welfare  of  others,  the  in¬ 
fectious,  the  dangerous,  the  loathsome.  One  may 
read  of  late  many  stories  of  army  surgeons  doing 
heroic  deeds  under  fire,  and  one’s  heart  naturally 
thrills  with  emotion  as  he  imagines  the  scenes  and 
wonders  what  manner  of  daring  may  lead  a  man  to 
risk  his  life  after  this  fashion.  But  I  submit  to  you, 
that  brave  as  is  such  a  deed  and  worthy  of  all  possi¬ 
ble  honor,  it  has  been  hundreds  of  times  for  one  ex¬ 
ceeded  in  the  actual  devotion  to  duty  and  the  resolu¬ 
tion  required  to  brave  the  elements,  or  to  face  death 
elsewhere  than  on  the  battlefield,  or  to  surrender 
strength  or  mayhap  life  itself,  or  to  invite  disaster 
by  infection,  or  to  wear  out  and  work  out  life  in  the 
constant  grinding  altruistic  work  of  doing  for  others, 
who  perhaps  have  violated  every  known  sanitary  law 
and  forfeited  their  every  right  to  live. 

Here  is  a  theme  that  might  well  stir  the  most  elo¬ 
quent  poet  or  orator  that  ever  lived.  How  then  shall 
I  do  it  justice?  Joanna  Bailie  has  well  put  it: 

“The  brave  man  is  not  he  who  feels  no  fear, 

For  that  were  stupid  and  irrational; 

But  he  whose  nobler  soul  its  fear  subdues, 

And  bravely  dares  the  danger  Nature  shrinks 
from.” 

This  recognition  of  our  profession  was  accorded 
much  more  unstintingly  nearly  two  thousand  years 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


249 


ago,  at  a  time  when  it  was  much  less  deserved,  when 
Cicero  wrote  ( De  Natura  Deorum)  “Homines  ad 
inibus  dando.”  (Men  are  never  more  godlike  than 
when  giving  health  to  mankind). 

But  we  can  hardly  delay  longer  here  and  at  this 
time  with  the  subject  of  heroism  in  medicine.  I 
shall  not  have  completed  the  matters  which  I  wish 
to  present  to  you  to-day  until  I  invite  your  attention 
to  a  short  sketch  of  the  careers  of  four  or  five  of 
the  men  who,  during  the  past  two  or  three  hundred 
years  have  set  the  example  for  men  of  all  times  and 
most  climes,  whose  lives  are  so  replete  with  that, 
which  is  interesting,  instructive  or  important  that  they 
may  be  well  held  up  before  a  graduating  class  as  il¬ 
lustrations  of  everything  which  may  be  advantage¬ 
ously  imitated.  They  belong  to  that  class  of  whom 
Longfellow  wrote : 

“Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 
We  can  make  our  lives  sublime.” 

One  of  those  was  Jean  Fernel,  who  was  born  in 
France  about  1497  and  died  in  1558.  I  do  not  know 
that  his  life  history  offers  anything  so  very  startling, 
although  he  came  to  be  regarded  as  the  most  memor¬ 
able  physiologist  of  his  generation,  but  he  adopted 
a  motto  which  I  think  we  all  might  well  select  for 
our  own,  and  it  was  because  of  this  motto  that  I 
have  mentioned  his  name  at  this  point.  It  was  this: 
“Destiny  reserves  for  us  repose  enough  ”  If  each 


250 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


of  you  will  take  this  individually  to  himself  he  will 
find  in  it  stimulus  enough  for  all  kinds  of  hard  work. 

The  first  of  the  eminently  great  men  now  to  be 
mentioned  in  this  connection  was  Herman  Boerhaave, 
born  in  1668  and  died  in  1738.  He  enjoyed  the  rep¬ 
utation  of  being  perhaps  the  most  eminent  physician 
who  ever  lived.  The  eldest  son  of  a  poor  clergyman 
with  a  large  family,  he  was  originally  intended  for 
theology,  and  with  this  in  view  studied  philosophy, 
history,  logic,  metaphysics,  philology  and  mathemat¬ 
ics,  as  well  as  theology.  A  mere  accident,  resulting 
from  intense  party  spirit  and  doctrinal  differences, 
prevented  his  devoting  his  life  to  theology,  and  he 
turned  next  to  mathematics  and  then  to  chemistry  and 
botany,  subsequently  studying  anatomy  and  medicine. 
He  graduated  in  1693  and  began  at  once  to  practice  in 
Leyden,  with  such  success  that  he  was  early  offered  the 
position  of  ordinary  surgeon  to  the  king,  which,  how¬ 
ever,  he  had  the  moral  courage  to  decline.  Subse¬ 
quently  he  taught  medicine  and  botany,  to  which 
chairs  was  also  added  later  that  of  chemistry.  This 
fact  of  itself  will  show  to  you  something  of  the  con¬ 
dition  of  medical  science  of  that  day,  when  one  man 
could  teach  chemistry,  botany  and  medicine.  His 
rarest  talents,  however,  were  developed  in  the  direc¬ 
tion  of  clinical  instruction,  and  in  this  particular  field 
he  won  such  repute  that  hearers  were  attracted  to 
Leyden  from  all  quarters  of  the  world  and  in  such 
numbers  that  no  university  lecture-room  was  large 
enough  to  contain  them.  His  practice  grew  in  extent 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


251 


and  remunerativeness  in  pace  with  his  reputation, 
and  when  he  died  he  left  an  estate  of  two  millions. 
So  famous  was  he  that  it  is  said  of  him  that  a  Chi¬ 
nese  official  once  sent  to  him  a  letter  addressed  sim¬ 
ply  “To  the  Most  Famous  Physician  in  Europe.” 
That  he  had  fixed  convictions  and  practices  may  be 
better  understood  from  the  fact  that  so  little  differ¬ 
ence  did  he  make  between  his  patients  that  he  kept 
Peter  the  Great  waiting  over  one  night  to  see  him, 
declining  to  regulate  his  visiting  list  by  the  means  or 
position  of  his  patients. 

Boerhaave  was  universally  regarded  as  a  great  stu¬ 
dent  and  a  great  physician,  but  it  was  probably  his 
qualities  as  a  man  which  led  to  the  astonishing  extent 
of  his  reputation.  Essentially  modest,  not  disputa¬ 
tious  nor  belligerent,  he  had  a  remarkable  influence 
over  the  young  men  who  came  near  him,  while  he  had 
a  habit  of  speaking  oracularly  or  in  aphorisms,  which 
are  not  always  so  profound  as  they  sound  and  yet 
often  make  a  man’s  dicta  celebrated.  Save  that  he 
introduced  the  use  of  the  thermometer  and  the  ordin¬ 
ary  lens  in  the  examinations  of  his  patients,  his  teach¬ 
ings  do  not  form  any  really  new  system.  In  the 
classification  of  men  he  would  be  regarded  as  a  great 
eclectic,  in  the  purer  sense  of  the  term.  Probably 
his  greatest  service  to  medicine  was  in  the  permanent 
establishment  of  the  clinical  method  of  instruction, 
and  perhaps  his  next  greatest  real  claim  to  glory  is 
the  character  of  the  instruction  and  the  inspiration 
which  he  gave  to  two  of  his  greatest  scholars,  viz. : 


252  .  WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


Haller  and  Van  Swieten.  He  was  not  the  founder  of 
a  school.  He  left  no  great  nor  memorable  doctrines 
for  which  others  should  contend,  but  he  left  a  name 
for  studiousness,  honest  and  logical  thinking,  which 
was  a  priceless  heritage  for  the  university  with  which 
he  was  connected. 

The  next  great  scholar  to  whose  life  and  works  I 
would  invite  your  attention  for  a  moment,  is  Mor¬ 
gagni,  born  in  Italy  in  1682,  died  in  1772.  He  was 
a  pupil  of  Valsalva,  whose  assistant  he  became  at  the 
age  of  nineteen.  Brought  up  in  this  way,  as  it  were 
in  the  domain  of  anatomy,  it  is  not  strange  that  he 
devoted  his  attention  throughout  his  life  especially 
to  the  anatomical  products  of  disease.  It  matters 
little  to  us  now  that  he  was  wont  to  regard  these  pro¬ 
ducts  as  the  causes  of  disease  and  thus  neglected  their 
remote  causes.  He  it  was  who  taught  us  to  apply  to 
pathological  anatomy  the  same  scrupulous  attention 
to  tissue  alterations  and  changes  which  the  ordinary 
anatomist  would  note  in  dissecting  a  new  animal 
form.  He  was  scarcely  the  founder  of  the  science 
of  pathological  anatomy,  for  this  credit  belongs  to 
Benivieni,  but  he  did  very  much  to  popularize  the 
study  and  to  show  its  importance.  More  than  this, 
he  wrote  a  work  which  for  his  day  and  generation 
was  colossal.  It  bore  the  title  “De  Sedibus  et  Cansis 
Morborum  per  Anatomen  Indagatis.”  It  consisted 
of  five  books.  The  first  appeared  in  Venice  in  1761. 
This  proved  a  perfect  mine  of  information  to  which 
one  may  often  turn  even  to-day,  and  read  with  won- 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


253 


der  the  observations  published  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago.  They  stamp  Morgagni  as  a  great  scien¬ 
tist  as  well  as  anatomist.  His  industry  will  be  indi¬ 
cated  by  the  fact  that  even  after  he  became  blind  he 
did  not  cease  to  work. 

Perhaps  the  most  wonderful  figure  in  the  whole 
history  of  modern  medicine  is  that  of  Albrecht  von 
Haller,  of  Berne,  born  1708,  died  1777,  and  often 
known  as  the  Great.  No  more  versatile  genius  than 
his  has  ever  adorned  our  profession.  A  most  pre¬ 
cocious  child,  he  developed  remarkable  abilities  in  the 
direction  of  poetry  asd  music,  as  well  as  medicine, 
and  the  only  wonder  is  that  he  lived  to  such  a  ripe 
old  age,  enjoying  the  fruits  of  his  labors,  having  dis¬ 
played  throughout  his  entire  life  an  industry  and  pro¬ 
ductiveness  which  were  most  remarkable.  Before 
he  reached  the  age  of  ten  he  had  written  a  Chaldee 
grammar,  a  Greek  and  Hebrew  vocabulary,  and  a 
large  collection  of  Latin  verses  and  biographies.  Dur¬ 
ing  the  next  few  years  he  translated  many  of  the 
Latin  authors,  and  wrote  an  original  epic  poem  of 
some  four  thousand  verses  on  the  Swiss  Confeder¬ 
acy.  All  of  this  work  he  had  completed  by  the  age  of 
twenty-one.  It  is  not  strange  that  among  those  who 
knew  of  his  precocity  he  was  generally  known  and  re¬ 
garded  as  a  “wonder  child.”  It  will  thus  be  seen, 
too,  that  medicine  was  but  one  of  the  many  subjects 
of  his  study.  He  studied  a  year  in  Tubingen,  where 
the  riotous  living  of  his  fellow  students  repelled  him; 
then  he  went  to  Leyden,  falling  there  under  the  in- 


254 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


fluence  of  the  illustrious  Boerhaave.  How  much  he 
drew  from  this  source  no  man  may  accurately  say  at 
present,  but  a  more  brilliant  example  he  certainly 
could  not  have  had.  He  finished  his  studies  in  Ley¬ 
den  before  he  was  twenty  and  then  traveled  through 
England  and  France,  but  was  compelled  to  flee  from 
Paris  to  escape  arrest  for  hiding  cadavers  in  his  room 
for  purposes  of  dissection.  This  will  prove  an  evi¬ 
dence  of  taste  for  study  if  not  of  taste  in  other  direc¬ 
tions. 

Suddenly  developing  a  passion  for  mathemat¬ 
ics,  he  went  to  Basle  and  worked  so  hard  as  to  almost 
ruin  his  health.  This  necessitated  a  trip  to  the  moun¬ 
tains  and  here  his  interest  in  botany  was  aroused  and 
indirectly  that  in  medicine  continued.  Soon  after  he 
returned  to  Berne  to  take  up  the  practice  of  medicine. 
Here  he  studied  and  worked  so  hard  as  to  arouse  a 
suspicion  of  his  sanity,  but  he  kept  up  his  health  by 
frequent  trips  to  the  Alps  in  search  of  flowers.  His 
fondness  for  botany  and  his  taste  for  poetry  seemed 
to  grow  with  equal  pace  and  he  seems  to  have  been 
among  the  first  of  modern  students  to  appreciate  the 
beauty  and  grandeur  of  Swiss  mountain  scenery. 
When  he  was  twenty-five  years  of  age  appeared  the 
first  edition  of  his  poems,  many  editions  appearing 
later.  Here  in  Berne  also  he  published  so  many  es¬ 
says  on  botany,  anatomy  and  physiology  that  wide¬ 
spread  attention  was  attracted  to  his  eminent  learn¬ 
ing,  and  he  was  called  to  fill  the  chair  of  anatomy  and 
botany  in  the  new  university  of  Gottingen,  where  he 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


255 


spent  seventeen  years  of  extraordinary  mental  activ¬ 
ity,  publishing  countless  papers  and  at  the  same  time 
continuing  his  poetic  and  his  nomadic  habits.  He  es¬ 
tablished  in  Gottingen  a  great  botanic  garden,  found¬ 
ed  scientific  societies,  published  five  books  on  anatomy, 
all  elaborately  illustrated,  printed  a  series  of  commen¬ 
taries  on  Boerhaave’s  lectures,  and  is  said  to  have 
contributed  altogether  thirteen  thousand  articles  re¬ 
lating  to  almost  every  branch  of  human  knowledge. 
It  is  not  strange  that  the  fame  of  the  University  of 
Gottingen  depended  largely  upon  Haller’s  reputa¬ 
tion. 

But  Haller  developed  a  clear  case  of  nostalgia, 
and  after  being  feted  by  the  nobility,  honored  by  al¬ 
most  every  monarch  in  Europe,  and  receiving  every 
honor  that  universities  and  philosophic  societies  con¬ 
fer,  he  resigned  from  his  chair  in  Gottingen  and  re¬ 
turned  to  Berne,  to  his  fatherland.  Here,  amid  his 
old  home  surroundings,  he  worked  for  twenty  years 
more  at  the  same  tremendous  rate,  discharging  di¬ 
verse  duties  of  state  and  private  citizenship,  founding 
and  promoting  industries  and  asylums,  and  serving 
constantly  upon  commissions  of  all  kinds.  While  thus 
engaged  appeared  that  phenomenal  work,  his  great 
Treatise  on  Physiology,  so  full  of  original  observa¬ 
tions  that  it  has  been  stated  that  should  discoveries 
which  have  been  re-discovered  since  Haller  be  collect¬ 
ed  they  would  fill  several  quarto  volumes.  The 
physiological  institute  of  Berne  is  to-day  known  as 
the  Hallerianum,  as  it  should  be,  for  it  is  distinctly 


256  WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


the  product  of  his  genius.  He  died  at  a  ripe  age, 
after  having  performed  an  incredible  amount  of 
work,  the  greatest  scholar  of  his  own  or  perhaps  of 
any  century,  revered  and  honored,  faithful  to  the 
last  and  exhibiting  in  his  last  moments  that  “philo¬ 
sophic  calmness  of  the  cultivated  intellect”  of  which 
Cicero  loved  to  write.  It  is  related  of  him  that  on  his 
deathbed  he  kept  his  fingers  on  his  own  wrist,  watch¬ 
ing  the  ebbing  away  of  his  own  existence  and  waiting 
for  the  last  pulsation  from  his  radial  artery.  Finally 
he  exclaimed,  “I  no  longer  feel  it,”  and  then  joined 
the  great  majority. 

Perhaps  Haller’s  greatest  contribution  to  physio¬ 
logical  lore  was  his  doctrine  of  irritability  of  tissues. 
It  took  the  place  of  much  that  had  caused  previous 
discussion  and  is  accepted  to-day  as  explaining,  as 
nearly  as  we  can  explain,  numerous  phenomena. 

In  this  same  great  wonder-century  lived  also  John 
Hunter,  the  greatest  of  England’s  medical  students, 
the  most  famous  surgeon  of  his  day  and  the  most 
indefatigable  collector  in  natural  history  and  natural 
science  that  ever  lived.  He  was  born  in  1728  and 
died  in  1783.  He  was  led  to  study  medicine  by  the 
fame  of  his  illustrous  brother  William,  and  began 
his  studies  by  acting  as  prosector  for  him.  He  soon 
became  a  pupil  of  Cheselden,  perhaps  the  mast  fa¬ 
mous  English  surgeon  of  his  generation.  Hunter 
developed  very  early  those  extraordinary  powers  of 
observation  and  that  originality  in  investigation  which 
later  made  him  so  famous.  Early  in  his  medical  ca- 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


257 


reer  he  came  for  a  time  under  the  influence  of  Perci- 
val  Pott.  This  was  at  a  time  when  surgery  had 
emerged  from  barbarism  and  when  the  French  Acad¬ 
emy  of  Surgery  had  erected  it  into  the  dignity  of  a 
science.  He  entered  St.  George’s  Hospital  in  1754 
as  a  surgeon’s  pupil.  Later  he  became  a  partner  with 
his  brother  in  the  latter’s  private  school  of  anatomy, 
but  John,  being  a  poor  lecturer,  was  distinguished 
by  his  services  in  the  dissecting-room  rather  than  in 
the  amphitheater.  The  customs  of  his  time  and  the 
jealousies  of  the  various  medical  factions  then  exist¬ 
ing  in  London  led  to  numerous  acrimonious  disputes, 
in  the  literary  part  of  which  William  Hunter,  who 
was  much  the  more  cultured  student,  took  the  lead, 
while  John,  who  lacked  in  scholastic  ability  and  had 
much  less  education,  was  relied  on  to  supply  the 
anatomical  data.  John  was  painfully  aware  of  his 
deficiencies  in  literary  culture  and  is  said  once  to 
have  replied  to  the  disparaging  remarks  of  an  op¬ 
ponent:  “Fie  accuses  me  of  not  understanding  the 
dead  languages,  but  I  could  tell  him  that  on  the 
dead  body  which  he  never  knew  in  any  language  liv¬ 
ing  or  dead.” 

It  was  in  this  way  that  he  was  led  into  unseemly 
encounters  with  the  Munros,  of  Edinburgh,  and  with 
his  late  teacher,  Pott.  The  same  sort  of  dispute 
finally  separated  the  two  brothers,  and  they  parted 
company  after  a  very  unseemly  exhibition  of  jealousy 
and  fraternal  discord. 

After  studying  human  anatomy  for  several  years, 


258  WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


John  Hunter  became  profoundly  impressed  with  the 
need  for  much  larger  knowledge  of  comparative 
anatomy,  but  about  this  time  ill  health  compelled  a 
temporary  change  and  so  he  went  into  the  army  as  a 
staff  surgeon.  This  was  at  the  time  when  Europe 
was  engaged  in  the  sanguinary  Seven  Years’  War, 
and  so  it  happened  that  Hunter  had  ample  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  studies  and  observations  in  military  surgery 
— at  the  siege  of  Belleisle  and  later  in  the  war  in  the 
Peninsula.  Here  he  made  many  of  those  observa¬ 
tions  on  gunshot  wounds  which  he  published  at  vari¬ 
ous  periods  later  and  which  helped  to  make  him 
famous. 

He  resumed  his  work  in  London  in  1763,  and  here 
again  he  had  to  undergo  a  long  trial  of  those  quali¬ 
ties  of  passive  fortitude  and  active  perseverance  un¬ 
der  difficulties  which  were  his  prominent  characteris¬ 
tics.  His  personal  needs  were  small  but  his  scientific 
requirements  were  large,  and  to  these  latter  he  de¬ 
voted  every  guinea  which  he  could  earn  in  his  small 
but  slowly  growing  practice.  His  own  manners  were 
so  brusque,  and  he  was  so  lacking  in  the  refinement  of 
many  of  his  colleagues  and  competitors,  that  it  took 
rare  mental  qualities  to  force  him  to  the  front,  to 
which  he  nevertheless  rapidly  advanced.  Bacon  has 
said,  “He  that  is  only  real  had  need  of  exceeding 
great  parts  of  virtue,  as  the  stone  had  need  be  rich 
that  is  set  without  foil,”  and  this  was  never  more  true 
than  in  John  Hunter’s  case.  His  leisure  hours  were 
never  unemployed.  He  obtained  the  bodies  of  all 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN  259 

animals  dying  in  the  public  collections  in  London 
and  so  began  to  form  that  enormous  collection  which 
became  known  later  as  the  Hunterian  Museum.  As 
his  means  afforded  it  he  built  and  added  to  his  accom¬ 
modations  and  carried  on  those  vast  researches  into 
animal  anatomy  and  physiology  to  which  the  balance 
of  his  life  was  devoted.  Although  his  practice  grad¬ 
ually  increased  and  he  became  in  time  the  most  fa¬ 
mous  surgeon  and  consultant  in  London,  he  used, 
nevertheless,  to  spend  three  or  four  hours  every  morn¬ 
ing  before  breakfast  in  dissection  of  animals,  and  as 
much  of  the  rest  of  the  day  as  he  could  spare.  Pu¬ 
pils  and  students  who  wished  to  consult  him  had  to 
come  early  in  the  morning,  often  as  early  as  four 
o’clock,  in  order  to  find  him  disengaged.  He  had 
that  rare  ability  to  do  a  maximum  of  work  with  a 
minimum  of  sleep  which  has  been  so  conspicuous  in 
the  case  of  Virchow.  Before  he  died,  Hunter  at¬ 
tained  to  a  large  competence,  and  his  anatomical  col¬ 
lection,  consisting  of  some  ten  thousand  preparations, 
made  largely  with  his  own  hands,  was  purchased  af¬ 
ter  his  death  by  the  Government,  for  seventy-five 
thousand  dollars,  and  presented  to  the  College  of 
Surgeons  where  it  forms  the  chief  part  of  the  so- 
called  Hunterian  Museum. 

Hunter’s  principal  claims  to  greatness  obtain  in 
this,  that  he  not  only  brought  the  light  of  physiology 
to  bear  upon  the  practice  of  our  art,  but  by  his  writ¬ 
ings  and  teachings  and  especially  by  his  example  led 
men  to  follow  along  the  paths  he  cleared  for  them. 


260 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


It  is  no  small  claim  to  glory  to  be  known  by  such  pu¬ 
pils  as  Hunter  had.  By  these,  by  his  colossal  indus¬ 
try  in  building  up  his  museum,  and  by  his  writings, 
he  will  ever  be  known  as  the  most  prominent  figure 
in  the  medical  history  of  Great  Britain. 

The  fifth  man  in  this  quintette  of  geniuses 
which  I  am  presenting  to  you  to-day  was  Francis 
Xavier  Bichat,  who  was  born  in  France  in  1771, 
and  died  in  1802.  Altohugh  he  was  thirty-one  years 
old  at  his  death,  his  career  was  so  phenomenal,  al¬ 
most  meteoric,  that  it  deserves  to  be  held  up  as  show¬ 
ing  what  one  can  do  in  the  early  period  of  his  life,  if 
he  will  but  work.  As  one  reads  of  his  originality  and 
talent  one  is  led  almost  insensibly  to  compare  them 
with  those  of  some  of  the  world’s  famous  musicians 
who,  also,  have  died  in  early  manhood  after  giving 
to  the  world  their  immortal  works,  e.  g.,  Schubert, 
Mozart  and  Mendelssohn.  Bichat  was  the  son  of 
a  physician  and  applied  himself  early  to  medical  stud¬ 
ies  in  Nantes,  Lyons,  Montpellier  and  finally  in 
Paris,  where  he  became  the  pupil  and  trusted  friend 
of  Desault,  then  the  greatest  Parisian  surgeon.  When 
Desault  died,  in  1795,  this  young  man  began  lectur¬ 
ing  for  him,  at  the  age  of  twenty-four.  He  dis¬ 
played  a  wonderful,  almost  feverish  scientific  activ¬ 
ity,  more  particularly  in  the  direction  of  general  and 
pathological  anatomy.  He  was  the  originator  of  the 
phrase  which  he  made  famous:  “Take  away  some 
fevers  and  nervous  troubles,  and  all  else  belongs  in 
the  domain  of  pathological  anatomy.”  Coming  upon 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


261 


the  stage  shortly  after  Morgagni  left  it,  he  was  able 
by  his  genius,  his  logical  acumen  and  his  graces  of 
speech  and  manner,  to  give  an  attractiveness  and  im¬ 
portance  to  this  subject  which  it  had  hitherto  lacked. 

It  was  his  great  service  to  more  clearly  differentiate 
closely  related  diseased  conditions  and  to  insist  upon 
a  study  of  post-mortem  appearances  in  connection 
with  previously  observed  clinical  phenomena.  He 
also  established  the  tendency  of  similar  tissues  to  sim¬ 
ilar  anatomical  lesions.  In  fact  our  view  of  what 
we  call  general  tissue  systems  we  in  reality  owe  to 
him,  since  without  use  of  the  microscope  he  dis¬ 
tinguished  twenty-one  kinds  of  tissue,  which  he  stud¬ 
ied  under  the  head  of  general  anatomy,  while  he  held 
that  descriptive  anatomy  had  to  do  with  their  various 
combinations. 

To  Bischat  was  largely  due  the  overthrow  of  purely 
speculative  medicine  because  he  placed  facts  far  in 
advance  of  theories  and  ideas.  Books  he  said  are  or 
should  be  merely  “memoranda  of  facts.”  That  he 
made  many  such  memoranda  will  appear  from  the 
fact  that  before  his  untimely  death  he  had  published 
nine  volumes  of  essays  and  treatises,  nearly  all  bear¬ 
ing  on  the  general  subject  of  anatomy,  normal  and 
morbid.  He  also  had  not  only  his  limitations  but 
his  faults.  He  strangely  denied  the  applicability  of 
so-called  physical  laws  to  body  processes,  he  mini¬ 
mized  the  importance  of  therapeutics,  and  he  sought 
to  place  the  vitalistic  system  upon  a  realistic  basis. 
Nevertheless  he  set  an  example  not  only  for  the 


262 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


young  men  of  France,  but  of  all  times  and  climes, 
which  should  be  often  held  up  before  them. 

And  so  I  have  thus  placed  before  you  five  bright 
and  shining  illustrations  of  what  brains  and  applica¬ 
tion  can  accomplish,  selected  from  different  lands  in 
order  to  show  that  medicine  has  no  country,  and 
from  a  previous  century  in  order  that  you  may  the 
better  realize  how  meagre  was  their  environment  in 
those  days  as  compared  with  that  which  you  enjoy. 
Perhaps  you  will  say,  “there  were  giants  in  those 
days.”  True,  but  the  race  has  not  entirely  died  out. 
While  Spencer  and  Virchow  live  one  may  not  call  the 
race  extinct,  nor  can  the  times  which  have  produced 
such  men  as  Helmholtz,  DuBois-Reymond,  Darwin, 
Huxley,  Leidy  or  Marsh,  fail  to  still  produce  an  oc¬ 
casional  worthy  successor. 

But  it  is  time  now  to  draw  this  rather  rambling 
discourse  to  an  end.  The  effort  has  been  partly  to 
attract  your  attention  to  some  of  the  side  lights  by 
which  the  vista  of  your  futures  may  be  the  more 
pleasantly  illumined,  and  partly,  by  placing  before 
you  brief  accounts  of  the  careers  of  some  of  your 
illustrious  predecessors,  to  show  that  eminence  in 
medical  science  inheres  in  no  particular  nationality 
nor  race,  neither  comes  it  of  heredity  nor  by  request. 
Like  salvation  it  is  available  to  all  who  fulfill  the 
prerequisites.  It  is  a  composite  product  of  applica¬ 
tion,  direction,  fervor  in  study,  logical  powers  of 
mind,  honesty  of  purpose,  capability  of  observation, 
alertness  to  improve  opportunities,  all  combined  with 


WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN  263 

that  somewhat  rare  gift  of  tact,  which  last  constitutes 
the  so-called  personal  equation  by  which  many  hu¬ 
manitarian  problems  are  solved.  Study  nature  for 
facts;  study  lives  of  great  men  for  inspiration  how  to 
use  them. 

“Were  a  star  quenched  on  high 
For  ages  would  its  light, 

Still  traveling  downward  from  the  sky, 

Shine  on  our  mortal  sight. 

So  when  a  great  man  dies 
For  years  beyond  our  ken, 

The  light  he  leaves  behind  him  lies 
Upon  the  paths  of  men.” 

If  then  you  regulate  your  mental  habits  by  such  a 
code  other  habits  will  of  necessity  fall  into  the 
proper  line.  The  only  other  admonition  I  would 
give  you  in  parting  is  summed  up  in  these  beautiful 
lines  of  our  own  Bryant: 

“So  live  that  when  thy  summons  comes  to  join 
The  innumerable  caravan  which  moves 
To  that  mysterious  realm  where  each  shall  take 
His  chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of  death, 

Thou  go  not  like  the  quarry  slave  at  night, 
Scourged  to  his  dungeon,  but  sustained  and  soothed 
By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approach  thy  grave 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams.” 


264  WORDS,  DEEDS  AND  MEN 


That  the  sentiment  is  not  new,  however,  will  ap¬ 
pear  in  this  other  and  ancient  version  which  Sir 
William  Jones  has  thus  rendered  from  the  Persian: 

“On  parent  knees,  a  naked  newborn  child, 

Weeping  thou  satst  while  all  around  thee  smiled, 

So  live  that,  sinking  to  thy  last  long  sleep, 

Calm  mayst  thou  smile  while  all  around  thee  weep.” 


X 

THE  CAREER  OF  THE  ARMY  SURGEON* 


THE  experience  of  listening  to  a  so-called 
Commencement  Address  under  these  pe¬ 
culiar  circumstances  is  doubtless  as  novel 
to  you  as  is  to  me  its  preparation.  So 
different  is  this  occasion  from  that  usually  spoken 
of  as  Commencement  Day,  that  it  taxed  my  judg¬ 
ment  as  much  as  it  did  my  ability  to — as  it  were — 
“meet  the  indication,”  and  to  try  to  say  the  appro¬ 
priate  thing.  It  behooves  me  to  remember  that  this 
is  in  effect  not  an  address  to  a  class  of  students  just 
entering  a  learned  profession,  but  an  effort  on  the 
part  of  one  on  the  borderland  of  experiences  gath¬ 
ered  from  a  civil  surgeon’s  work,  yet  enjoying  a 
quasi  military  title,  with  strong  ties  and  leanings — 
to  some  extent  inherited — toward  the  course  of  the 
army  surgeon  and  the  fascinations  of  the  soldier’s 
life.  Self-evident  it  is  that  you  need  no  admonition 
which  I  could  give,  for  the  very  fact  of  your  presence 
here  indicates  that  your  selection  by  your  superior 
officers  stamps  their  approval  of  your  ability  as  well 
as  your  character. 

Time  has  wrought  vast  changes  in  the  personnel 
of  the  army  medical  corps,  as  in  every  other  branch 

^Commencement  Address  at  the  Army  Medical  School,  Wash¬ 
ington,  D.  C.,  May  29,  1909. — From  “The  Military  Surgeon 
July,  1909. 

265 


266  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


of  the  service.  From  the  days  of  Xenophon,  with 
his  selection  of  the  best  material  afforded,  to  the 
dark  middle  ages  with  practically  no  provision,  then 
to  the  later  centuries  with  their  menial  barbers  and 
barber  surgeons,  and  then  the  very  gradually  im¬ 
proved  conditions  which  bettered  the  service,  down 
to  the  present  time,  when  the  best  is  none  too  good, 
there  has  been  that  same  evolution  which  has  charac¬ 
terized  all  the  rest  of  mankind’s  surroundings  and 
man’s  realization  of  his  public  and  private  duties. 
From  the  days  when  the  first  duty  of  the  so-called 
army  surgeon  was  to  minister  to  his  commanding 
general,  and  when  the  private  soldier  received  but 
the  scantiest  if  any  attention,  we  have  arrived  at  that 
time  when  the  good  health  of  the  entire  army  is  the 
aim  and  pride  of  the  medical  corps,  and  when  public 
opinion  demands  for  every  enlisted  man  a  degree  of 
watchful  care  greater  than  many  parents  bestow 
upon  their  own  families.  The  line  officer  of  to-day 
can  no  longer  afford  to  disregard  the  advice  of  his 
medical  officers,  and  camp  sanitation  is  now  of  even 
greater  importance  than  operative  technique,  be¬ 
cause  preventable  sickness  and  the  incapacity  caused 
by  disease  are  recognized  as  far  more  to  be  dreaded 
than  the  bullets  of  the  enemy. 

Public  estimate  of  our  duties  to  the  sick  and 
wounded  has  varied  largely  during  different  epochs. 
Thus  Homer  makes  Nestor  say: 

"A  surgeon  skilled  our  wounds  to  heal, 

Is  more  than  armies  to  the  public  weal.” 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  267 

Homer  also  lauded  the  services  of  the  two  sons 
of  Aesculapius,  whom  he  deified  as  the  grandest  of 
heroes  and  the  wisest  of  surgeons,  and  thus  wrote 
of  them  at  the  siege  of  Troy,  twelve  hundred  years 
before  the  birth  of  Christ: 

“Of  two  great  surgeons,  Podalirius  stands 
This  hour  surrounded  by  the  Trojan  bands, 

And  great  Machaon,  wounded,  in  his  tent 
Now  wants  the  succor  which  so  oft  he  lent.” 

Again  he  thus  describes  an  operation : 

“Patroclus  cut  the  forky  steel  away; 

While  in  his  hand  a  bitter  root  he  pressed, 

The  wound  he  washed  and  styptic  juice  infused; 
The  closing  flesh  that  instant  ceased  to  glow, 
The  wound  to  torture,  and  the  blood  to  flow.” 

Contrast  the  tender  mercies  thus  described  with 
an  incident  occurring  during  one  of  the  exciting  ex¬ 
periences  of  Ambroise  Pare,  who  one  day,  during  a 
battle,  saw  three  desperately  wounded  soldiers 
placed  with  their  backs  against  a  wall.  An  old  cam¬ 
paigner  inquired,  “Can  those  fellows  get  well?” 
“No,”  answered  Ambroise.  Thereupon  the  old 
campaigner  went  up  to  them  and  cut  all  their  throats, 
“sweetly  and  without  wrath.”  Note,  if  you  will,  the 
expression,  “sweetly  and  without  wrath,”  since  it 
implies  a  primitive  form  of  humanity  in  providing 


268  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


euthanasia  for  the  hopelessly  wounded. 

While  it  has  been  from  time  immemorial  the  cus¬ 
tom  to  attach  surgeons  to  various  armies,  some  idea 
of  prevailing  notions  of  antiquity  may  be  gained 
from  the  statement  that  Xenophon  had  but  eight 
field  surgeons  with  his  10,000  troops.  In  his  army 
the  sick  and  wounded  were  cared  for  in  adjoining 
villages,  or,  when  on  the  march,  were  carried  in  the 
rear  of  the  troops,  being  cared  for  by  women  from 
“the  baggage.”  Whether  these  women  were  the 
“vivandieres”  of  those  days  I  do  not  quite  make  out, 
nevertheless  they  must  have  been  much  the  same 
thing. 

In  the  days  of  Rome’s  greatest  glory  each  cohort 
of  420  men  had  four  surgeons,  while  each  legion  of 
ten  cohorts  had  one  legionary  physician.  In  the 
navy  there  was  also  one  physician  to  each  trireme; 
nevertheless  the  wounded  on  land  or  sea  received 
scant  attention,  although  it  is  interesting  to  read  that 
each  soldier  carried  with  him  the  most  necessary 
bandages  ready  for  use,  an  emergency  packet  sup¬ 
posed  to  be  quite  modern. 

A  few  hundred  years  later,  in  the  Eastern  Empire, 
the  Emperor  Maurice  ordered  that  throughout 
every  division  of  from  two  hundred  to  four  hundred 
cavalry  eight  or  ten  of  the  strongest  men  be  selected, 
in  order  to  bring  to  the  rear  those  who  were  severely 
wounded,  to  supply  them  with  water,  and  to  collect 
the  weapons  lying  upon  the  field.  These  mounted 
cavalrymen  received  a  small  reward  for  each  person 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  269 

rescued.  Three  hundred  years  later  this  arrange¬ 
ment  was  continued  in  operation  by  Leo  VI.  Wher¬ 
ever  it  was  possible  the  sick  and  wounded  soldiers 
were  cared  for  by  monks  or  by  sisters,  in  the  numer¬ 
ous  hospices  and  institutions  which  abounded 
throughout  the  East,  and  although  the  care  was 
often  of  the  worst  the  efforts  made  were  in  the  right 
direction.  Holy  oil,  laying  on  of  hands,  supplica¬ 
tion,  and  the  use  of  holy  relics  constituted  a  large 
part  of  the  treatment  in  vogue;  nevertheless  these 
remedies  were  not  quite  so  injurious  as  some  of  the 
other  and  more  disgusting  ones  whose  use  prevailed 
in  those  days. 

Without  doubt  the  two  army  surgeons  who  dur¬ 
ing  the  last  500  years  achieved  more  fame  than  any 
of  their  colleagues  were  Ambroise  Pare,  and  Baron 
Larrey.  Such  commanding  figures  were  they,  not 
only  in  their  professional  work,  but  in  the  general 
influence  which  they  wielded  alike  upon  sovereign 
and  common  soldier,  that  they  will  ever  be  regarded 
as  among  the  most  memorable  characters  of  common 
history.  Pare  died  in  1590,  Larrey  in  1842.  Each 
was  passed  along  from  one  ruler  or  commander  to 
his  successor,  and  each  was  regarded  as  about  the 
most  priceless  legacy  which  could  be  thus  trans¬ 
mitted. 

Pare’s  name  has  always  been  most  conspicuously 
mentioned  in  connection  with  the  history  of  the  intro¬ 
duction  of  the  ligature  as  a  substitute  for  the  cautery 
iron  or  boiling  oil,  previously  in  use  for  the  check- 


270  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


ing  of  hemorrhage,  and  for  his  teaching  concerning 
the  nature  of  gun-shot  wounds,  which  had  been  pre¬ 
viously  and  universally  considered  as  necessarily 
poisoned  wounds;  but  his  new  practice  and  his  new 
views  in  these  respects  were  but  a  small  part  of  the 
general  services  which  he  rendered.  It  is  not  worth 
while  to  try  to  even  epitomize  here  to-day  the  history 
of  the  ligature;  though  while  its  introduction  has 
been  widely  credited  to  Pare,  you  must  not  forget 
that  it  was  in  use  many  centuries  before  his  time, 
and  was  frequently  mentioned  by  the  early  writers. 
What  Pare  really  did  was,  first,  to  abolish  a  barbar¬ 
ous  and  unscientific  method  of  dealing  with  hemorr¬ 
hage,  and  then  to  re-introduce  or  promote  the  em¬ 
ployment  of  the  ligature  as  a  far  preferable  substi¬ 
tute,  more  humane,  more  clean,  and  more  desirable. 
And  so  rather  than  do  scant  justice  by  incomplete 
reference  to  Pare’s  actual  contributions  to  knowl¬ 
edge  I  prefer  rather  to  speak  of  the  other  side  of 
this  great  man’s  character,  and  to  remind  you  of 
some  of  the  many  ways  by  which  he  secured  such 
marvellous  influence  over  those  around  him,  and 
made  his  remarkable  personality  of  the  greatest  use. 
As  he  passed  through  one  campaign  after  another 
his  reputation  became  more  and  more  firmly  estab¬ 
lished,  and  inspired  surgeons  the  world  over  with 
the  desire  to  visit  him.  In  almost  his  every  act  his 
sagacity  was  conspicuously  displayed,  while,  when¬ 
ever  they  were  called  for,  his  personal  courage  and 
absolute  lack  of  fear  were  equally  apparent. 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  271 

Deprived  of  the  benefits  of  early  and  liberal  train¬ 
ing  he  probably,  on  that  very  account,  developed  his 
power  of  thought,  his  memory  and  his  analytical 
powers  all  the  more  keenly,  inasmuch  as  these  were 
made  to  take  the  place  of  what  he  might  have  learn¬ 
ed  from  books. 

The  following  anecdote  will  serve  to  illustrate,  for 
instance,  the  general  esteem  in  which  he  was  held.  In 
October,  1552,  the  army  of  Charles  V.  was  besieg¬ 
ing  the  city  of  Metz,  and  Charles  himself  came  to 
take  command.  In  the  beleaguered  city  were  gath¬ 
ered  the  nobility  and  the  bluest  blood  of  France, 
while  at  the  head  of  the  defending  forces  was  the 
Duke  of  Guise.  The  imprisoned  soldiers  and  ci¬ 
vilians  suffered  alike  from  the  onslaughts  of  the 
enemy,  the  rigors  of  a  frightful  winter,  the  lack  of 
food,  and  the  presence  of  disease.  The  Duke  had 
established  two  hospitals  for  the  soldiers,  which  he 
put  in  charge  of  the  barber  surgeons  of  the  city,  and 
furnished  them  with  money  with  which  to  procure 
supplies,  but  owing  to  the  wretched  incompetence  of 
these  same  barber  surgeons  nearly  all  the  wounded 
perished,  and  the  horrible  suspicion  arose  that  the 
soldiers  were  being  poisoned.  The  Duke  sent  word 
to  the  King  of  France  that  the  place  could  hold  out 
for  ten  months,  but  that  they  needed  more  medicines. 
The  King  then  sent  for  Pare,  gave  him  money,  or¬ 
dered  him  to  take  all  the  medicines  and  other  sup¬ 
plies  he  deemed  necessary,  and  further  aided  him  by 
bribing  an  Italian  captain  to  permit  the  celebrated 


272  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


surgeon,  in  some  way,  to  enter  the  besieged  city.  Brav¬ 
ing  all  dangers,  and  being  finally  successful,  Pare  en¬ 
tered  Metz  two  months  later.  He  had  at  this  time 
been  with  the  armies  for  at  least  sixteen  years,  and 
was  known  by  sight  to  officers  and  soldiers  alike.  On 
the  day  after  his  arrival  the  Duke  of  Guise  dramatic¬ 
ally  presented  him,  on  the  ramparts,  to  all  his  officers, 
who  embraced  him,  and  hailed  him  with  loud  ac¬ 
claim,  while  by  the  soldiers  he  was  received  with 
shouts  of  triumph.  “We  shall  not  die,”  they  ex¬ 
claimed,  “even  though  wounded,  for  Pare  is  among 
us.”  The  effect  of  this  great  surgeon’s  appearance 
was  to  give  new  vigor  to  the  defenders,  and  to  it  was 
due  the  fact  that  the  city  was  saved. 

In  his  time  Pare  met  with  success  such  as  to-day 
would  be  pronounced  most  extraordinary.  He  in¬ 
spired  the  wounded  with  utmost  confidence,  and  dis¬ 
played,  always  and  everywhere,  remarkable  firmness. 
Not  the  least  notable  feature  in  his  personal  history 
is  it  that  he  should  have  so  long  retained  favor  at 
court  with  such  outspoken  independence  of  character. 

Equally  reputable  among  army  surgeons  of  the 
past,  and  one  of  the  most  commanding  figures  in  his¬ 
tory,  medical  or  other,  was  Baron  Larrey.  For  more 
than  fifty  years  he  was  an  army  surgeon,  and  for  a 
great  part  of  that  period  he  stood  really  closer  to 
Napoleon  than  almost  any  of  the  men  whom  the  lat¬ 
ter  attached  to  his  person  by  one  or  another  of  those 
traits  that  made  him  such  a  remarkable  figure.  That 
one  of  the  greatest  murderers  and  one  of  the  great- 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  273 


est  life-savers  of  all  time  should  have  been  so  closely 
drawn  to  each  other,  constitutes  one  of  the  most  note¬ 
worthy  incidents  of  history.  Alike  in  many  respects, 
so  unlike  in  so  many  others,  it  is  one  of  the  most  cred¬ 
itable  features  of  Napoleon’s  career  that  he  should 
have  accorded  to  Larrey  that  recognition  which  he 
early  gave  and  never  withdrew.  Never  was  such 
tribute  more  signally  deserved  nor  worthily  bestowed. 
Though  he  passed  through  twenty-six  campaigns, 
“from  Syria  to  Portugal,  and  from  Moscow  to  Mad¬ 
rid,”  and  though  his  wonderful  courage  never  failed 
him  under  the  most  trying  surroundings  of  carnage 
and  conflict,  it  may  still  be  questioned  whether  it  did 
not  take  a  higher  degree  or  order  of  courage  to  face 
Napoleon  in  his  tent,  or  tell  him  plain  truths  in  the 
Tuilleries. 

The  history  of  campaigning  affords  innumerable 
incidents  illustrating  heroism  under  fire,  or  equally 
trying  circumstances,  and  it  is  difficult  and  perhaps 
unjust  to  single  out  a  few  for  individual  mention. 
Bravery  is  confined  to  no  epoch  and  to  no  race;  it  is 
simply  a  God-given  trait,  not  by  any  means  pos¬ 
sessed  by  all  men.  Take,  for  instance,  one  incident 
in  the  career  of  Larrey.  During  the  landing  of  the 
English  on  the  shores  of  Aboukir  Bay,  when  General 
Silly  had  his  knee  crushed  by  a  bullet,  Larrey  appreci¬ 
ated  that  immediate  amputation  was  imperative, 
and  gaining  consent  performed  it,  in  three  minutes, 
under  the  enemy’s  fire.  Just  as  he  was  finished  the 
English  cavalry  charged  upon  them;  in  his  own 


274  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


words,  “I  had  scarcely  time,”  he  said,  “to  take  the 
wounded  officer  on  my  shoulders  and  carry  him  rap¬ 
idly  toward  our  army  which  was  in  full  retreat.  I 
spied  a  series  of  ditches  across  which  I  passed,  while 
the  enemy  had  to  go  around  by  a  more  circuitous 
route.  Thus  I  had  the  happiness  to  reach  the  rear 
guard  of  our  army  before  this  corps  of  dragoons 
reached  us.  I  arrived  at  Alexandria  with  this  honor¬ 
able,  wounded  officer,  where  I  completed  his  cure.” 

Perhaps  under  no  circumstance  did  Larrey’s  cour¬ 
age  and  zeal  show  to  better  advantage  than  in  the 
awful  retreat  from  Moscow.  For  example,  after 
the  terrible  battle  of  Borodino,  Larrey  made  two  hun¬ 
dred  amputations,  practically  with  his  own  hands, 
where  there  were  neither  couches  nor  coverings  of 
any  kind,  when  the  cold  was  so  intense  that  the  instru¬ 
ments  often  fell  from  the  benumbed  fingers  of  the  sur¬ 
geons,  and  when  food  consisted  of  horse  flesh,  cabbage 
stalks  and  a  few  potatoes.  And  all  this  while  the 
savage  Cossacks  were  hovering  around  equally  ready 
to  kill  both  surgeons  and  patients.  Soon  after  came 
the  passage  of  the  Beresina,  with  its  attendant  hor¬ 
rors.  General  Zayonchek,  over  sixty  years  of  age, 
had  his  knee  crushed,  and  was  in  need  of  immediate 
amputation,  which  Larrey  performed  under  the  ene¬ 
my’s  fire,  amid  the  falling  snow,  with  no  shelter  ex¬ 
cept  a  cloak,  held  by  two  officers  over  the  patient 
while  the  operation  was  being  performed.  The  Gen¬ 
eral  recovered,  and  died  fourteen  years  later  as  Vice¬ 
roy  of  Poland. 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  275 


It  was  after  this  passage  of  the  Beresina  by  the 
Imperial  Guard  that  it  was  discovered  that  all  the 
requisites  for  the  sick  and  wounded  had  been  left  be¬ 
hind  and  on  the  other  side.  Larrey  at  once  recrossed 
the  river,  and  found  himself  amidst  a  furious,  strug¬ 
gling  crowd,  in  danger  of  being  crushed  to  death, 
when  suddenly  the  soldiers  recognized  him.  Imme¬ 
diately  they  took  him  up  in  their  arms,  crossed  the 
river  with  him,  crying,  “let  us  save  him  who  saved 
us,”  and  forgot  their  own  safety  in  their  regard  for 
him  whose  merciful  kindness  they  had  so  often  ex¬ 
perienced. 

Another  incident  in  Larrey’s  career:  Ever  faith¬ 
ful  to  Napoleon,  his  adored  master,  through  victory 
or  reverse,  Larrey  stood  one  night  with  a  small  group 
of  medical  men  gazing  over  the  field  of  Waterloo, 
and  upon  the  wounded  and  dying  who  lay  groaning 
around  him.  Suddenly  they  were  charged  by  a  squa¬ 
dron  of  Prussian  Lancers,  at  whom  Larrey  fired  his 
pistols  and  galloped  away,  but  was  overtaken  by  the 
Prussians,  who  shot  his  horse,  sabred  him,  and  left 
him  for  dead.  After  a  while  he  recovered  his  senses, 
and  tried  to  make  his  way  across  lots  to  France,  but 
was  again  captured  by  another  detachment  of  cavalry, 
who  robbed  him  of  everything,  and  then  took  him  to 
headquarters,  where  it  was  ordered  that  he  be  shot. 
Think  of  such  a  fate  for  one  who  had  saved  so  many 
lives !  But  the  order  would  have  been  carried  out 
promptly  had  not  one  of  the  Prussian  surgeons  recog¬ 
nized  Larrey,  having  attended  his  lectures  several 


2 76  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


years  previously.  Accordingly  he  was  brought  before 
Biilow,  and  finally  before  Marshall  Bliicher,  whose 
son  had  been  wounded  and  captured  by  the  French 
in  the  Austrian  Campaign,  and  whose  life  had  been 
saved  by  Larrey’s  exertions.  You  may  imagine  that 
it  did  not  take  long  to  reverse  that  order  for  execu¬ 
tion. 

Praise  from  Napoleon  was  most  rare,  but  of  Lar- 
rey  he  made  this  remark  in  his  will,  along  with  a  be¬ 
quest  of  100,000  francs,  “He  is  the  most  virtuous 
man  I  have  ever  known.” 

Let  us  mention  a  few  other  instances.  For  ex¬ 
ample,  Surgeon  Thomson,  who  during  the  Crimean 
war,  after  the  battle  of  the  Alma,  volunteered,  with 
his  servant,  John  McGrath,  to  remain  behind  on  the 
open,  unsheltered  field,  with  five  hundred  Rus¬ 
sians  so  wounded  as  to  be  disabled  or  even  at 
at  the  point  of  death.  For  three  days  and 
nights  these  two  Englishmen  remained  prac¬ 
tically  alone  upon  that  field,  covered  only  with  dead 
and  dying,  among  foreign  foes,  none  of  them  able  to 
help  themselves,  or  even  to  speak  in  a  language  that 
could  be  understood. 

At  the  battle  of  Inkerman  Assistant  Surgeon 
Wolesley  had  established  his  field  hospital  in  that  aw¬ 
ful  place  of  slaughter,  the  Sandbag  Battery.  When 
its  defenders  were  reduced  to  150  men,  and  were 
forced  to  leave  it,  most  of  them  retreated  in  one  di¬ 
rection  to  find,  only  thirty  paces  away,  a  Russian 
battalion  blocking  their  path.  There  was  not  one 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  277 

competent  officer  left,  so  this  surgeon  took  command. 
Seizing  a  bayonet  because  he  had  no  sword,  he  spoke 
hurriedly  to  the  men,  and  explained  that  their  next 
fight  was  not  merely  for  victory,  but  for  their  own 
lives ;  then  he  led  them  in  a  charge  that  tore  so  fierce¬ 
ly  through  the  Russian  detachment  that  but  half  of 
them  reached  the  other  side  alive. 

During  the  South  African  campaign  the  papers 
recorded  (but  how  few  read  of  it?)  the  fate  of  Sur¬ 
geon  Landon,  who  was  shot  through  the  spine  while 
ministering  to  the  wounded  on  Majuba  Hill.  Para¬ 
lyzed  below  the  waist,  he  had  himself  propped  up, 
and  continued  his  work  as  best  he  could  until  his 
strength  failed,  when  he  said,  “I  am  dying;  do  what 
you  can  for  the  wounded.” 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  devote  here  a  few  minutes 
to  the  consideration  of  conditions  obtaining  at  the 
time  of  our  Revolutionary  War.  In  1776  the  barber 
surgeon  still  had  a  place  in  the  armies  of  the  world 
and  was  even  then  regarded  as  scarcely  more  than  a 
menial.  Never  was  he  accorded  the  respect  or  the 
honors  of  a  gentleman,  nor  was  he  allowed  to  carry 
a  sword.  On  the  other  hand,  he  wras  subjected  to  cor¬ 
poral  punishment,  and  could  be  caned  by  his  colonel, 
or  almost  anyone  else,  whenever  such  an  act  was  pro¬ 
voked.  It  may  be  said  that  the  English  troops  were 
somewhat  better  equipped  than  were  the  hired  Hes¬ 
sians,  while  the  French,  who  came  to  our  aid,  brought 
with  them  some  far  better  men,  who  were  in  many 
respects  a  revelation  during  our  revolution  and  an 


27S  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 

inspiration  to  our  own  so-called  surgeons.  But  our 
colonial  and  general  governments  dealt  very  stingily 
with  our  army  medical  department,  and  their  pro¬ 
fessional  equipments  were  of  the  most  meagre;  in 
fact,  the  history  of  surgery  of  those  days,  either  in 
the  army  or  in  civil  life,  is  practically  the  history 
of  a  few  prominent  individuals,  most  of  whom  had 
spent  the  time  and  money  required  for  study  abroad, 
and  who  had  come  home  bringing  back  with  them 
the  best  of  their  day,  such  as  it  was.  For  instance, 
there  were  the  Warren  brothers,  in  Boston,  of  whom 
the  elder,  Joseph,  started  Paul  Revere  on  his  famous 
ride.  He  was  elected  President  of  the  Provincial 
Congress,  and  just  before  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill 
was  made  Major  General  of  the  Continental  forces, 
a  position  which  he  preferred  to  that  of  Physician 
General,  which  he  had  been  offered.  During  the  bat¬ 
tle  he  fought  with  a  musket,  as  though  a  private,  and 
was  shot  down  just  as  the  conflict  ended.  The  young¬ 
er  brother,  John,  lived  to  achieve  fame  and  reputa¬ 
tion,  and  transmitted  them  to  his  posterity. 

During  the  war  some  colonial  regiments  even 
came  into  camp  without  any  surgeon,  or  the  slightest 
provision  for  disease  or  injury.  In  1776  Congress 
ordered  that  there  should  be  one  surgeon  and  five 
assistants  to  each  5,000  enlisted  men,  the  former 
being  paid  $1.66  per  day,  the  latter  $1  a  day.  Im¬ 
agine  the  attention  that  could  be  bestowed  upon 
5,000  soldiers  by  six  men  whose  services  were  thus 
compensated.  Camp  hygiene,  hospital  corps,  and 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  279 

ambulance  service  were  undreamed  of;  nevertheless 
John  Warren,  then  only  twenty-three  years  of  age, 
accomplished  a  great  deal  in  building  up  a  medical 
corps,  while  as  much  more  was  done  by  Benjamin 
Church,  of  Boston,  who  was  styled  Director  General 
and  Chief  Physician,  and  who  was  paid  $4  a  day. 
Unfortunately  Church  was  detected  in  traitorous 
correspondence  with  the  enemy,  was  court-martialed, 
imprisoned  for  a  year,  then  allowed  to  leave  the 
country,  and  was  probably  lost  at  sea.  He  was  suc¬ 
ceeded  by  John  Morgan,  of  Philadelphia,  who  had 
to  fight  the  politicians  as  well  as  the  foreign  enemy 
and,  failing  to  satisfy  them,  was  dismissed  from  the 
service,  though  acquitted  from  all  blame.  Thus  you 
see  that  even  in  those  days  the  politicians  made  it 
hard  to  secure  adequate  and  proper  care  for  our  sick 
and  wounded  soldiers.  Everywhere  at  that  time 
were  unrest,  excitement,  and  suspicion,  and  their 
demoralizing  effects  showed  in  every  department  of 
military  as  of  civil  government.  After  Morgan  came 
Shippen,  who  held  office  from  1777  to  1781,  under 
whose  guidance  affairs  in  the  medical  department 
improved  very  much.  Smallpox  had  been  perhaps 
the  greatest  scourge  of  the  soldiers,  as  well  as  of  the 
people  in  general,  but  this  was  kept  in  subjection  by 
the  practice  of  inoculation,  which  had  been  generally 
accepted  in  this  country  by  nearly  all  men  from 
Washington  down. 

A  word  or  two  must  also  be  said  about  that  re¬ 
markable  man,  Benjamin  Rush,  with  his  many-sided, 


280  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


versatile,  erratic,  obstinate  and  querulous  character, 
who  nevertheless  constituted  in  his  day  the  most 
prominent  figure  in  the  profession;  who  served  two 
years  in  Congress;  who  signed  the  Declaration  of 
Independence;  and  who,  in  the  same  year,  got  his 
first  army  medical  experience.  It  was  perhaps  not 
strange  that,  with  his  peculiar  temperament,  he  fail¬ 
ed  to  come  under  the  influence  of  Washington’s  pe¬ 
culiar  personal  magnetism,  and  that  their  personal 
relations  were  not  at  all  to  Rush’s  credit,  since  he 
endeavored  in  many  ways  to  belittle  his  Commander- 
in-Chief,  and  suffered  therefor  a  rather  ignominious 
exposure. 

The  temptation  is  always  to  place  most  stress 
upon  accounts  of  heroism  which  happens  to  be  most 
publicly  performed.  While  this  is  not  unnatural  it 
is  often  an  injustice,  since  an  act  of  courage  may  be 
performed  in  the  lime-light  of  publicity,  with  a  re¬ 
gard  for  notoriety,  that  would  be  lost  were  it  done  in 
private.  It  perhaps  is  not  kind  to  think  that  anyone 
would  ever  be  more  courageous  in  public  than  in 
private,  and  yet  it  is  to  be  feared  that  human  nature 
is  not  always  free  from  temptation  of  this  kind.  But 
the  real  silent  heroes  of  military  or  civil  medical  life 
are  those  who  engage  in  duties  which  nevertheless 
have  even  more  of  danger  about  them  than  spectacu¬ 
lar  performances  upon  the  battle  field.  Take  for 
instance,  the  work  done  by  Major  Reed  and  Dr. 
Carroll,  who  devoted  themselves  for  months  to  the 
study  of  yellow  fever.  Many  a  man  will  stand  upon 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  281 


the  field  of  battle  permitting  himself  to  be  fired  upon, 
but  how  many  will  deliberately  submit  to  being  bitten 
by  insects  believed  to  be  carriers  of  the  germs  of  yel¬ 
low  fever.  Dr.  Carroll  had  this  quiet  kind  of  brav¬ 
ery,  and  allowed  himself  to  be  bitten  by  a  mosquito 
that  twelve  days  previously  had  filled  himself  with 
the  blood  of  a  yellow  fever  patient,  and  in  conse¬ 
quence  suffered  from  a  severe  attack,  barely  escaping 
with  his  life.  Dr.  Lazear  permitted  the  same  ex¬ 
periment  upon  himself,  but  was  not  at  that  time  in¬ 
fected  ;  but  some  days  later  while  in  the  yellow  fever 
ward  he  was  bitten  by  a  mosquito,  made  careful  note 
of  the  fact,  acquired  the  disease  in  its  most  hideous 
form,  and  died  a  martyr  to  science,  as  true  a  hero  as 
ever  died  upon  fortress  or  man-of-war.  Others,  too, 
willingly  exposed  themselves,  but  there  was  at  that 
time  no  other  fatality  to  record.  But  realizing  the 
value  of  the  service  rendered,  the  indisputable  proof 
of  the  nature  of  the  disease,  and  the  method  by 
which  it  is  carried,  the  value  of  the  demonstration 
becomes  inestimable,  since  a  true  prophylaxis  was 
demonstrated,  and  a  means  furnished  of  ridding  the 
community  of  this  fearful  pestilence.  Moreover,  it 
was  shown  how  unnecessary  it  is  to  destroy  valuable 
property,  it  being  only  necessary  to  kill  the  mosqui¬ 
toes,  and  do  away  with  their  breeding  places.  Major 
Reed  died  a  few  years  after  he  had  led  in  this  light 
against  the  dread  disease,  but  no  monument,  or  other 
testimonial  which  can  be  erected  to  the  memory  of 
Reed,  Carroll  and  Lazear  can  adequately  express 


282  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


the  value  of  the  service  which  they  have  rendered  to 
the  world. 

“Peace  hath  her  victories  no  less  than  war.”  This 
epigram  is  as  true  of  the  conflicts  in  which  the  medi¬ 
cal  profession  engage  as  of  any  other.  This  same 
sentiment  has  been  put  in  other  words.  It  is  said, 
“That  peace  hath  higher  tests  of  manhood  than 
battle  ever  knew.”  For  instance,  in  New  York  there 
is  a  simple  tablet  commemorating,  in  loving  remem¬ 
brance,  the  death  of  eighteen  young  physicians  who, 
one  after  another,  attended  a  ship  load  of  emigrants 
sick  of  typhus  fever  on  Quarantine  Island.  They 
fought  their  good  fight  and  were  buried  without 
martial  music,  adding  eighteen  names  to  the  innumer¬ 
able  list  of  victims  who  have  fought  the  silent  battle 
of  dealing  with  disease,  public  gainers  only  in  this, 
that  someone  has  been  thoughtful  enough  to  record 
their  names  in  this  semi-public  fashion. 

Taken  again  the  case  of  Dr.  Franz  Muller,  of 
Vienna,  who  contracted  the  bubonic  plague  while 
working  in  the  laboratory  with  its  germs.  Just  so 
soon  as  he  realized  that  he  himself  was  infected  he 
locked  himself  in  an  isolated  room,  and  pasted  upon 
the  window  pane  a  sheet  of  paper  containing  this 
message,  “I  am  suffering  from  plague.  Do  not  send 
a  doctor  to  me,  as  in  any  event  my  end  will  come  in 
four  or  five  days.”  He  refused  to  admit  those  who 
were  anxious  to  do  for  him,  wrote  a  letter  to  his 
parents  which  he  placed  against  the  window,  so  that 
it  could  be  copied  from  the  outside,  then  burned  the 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  283 

original,  fearing  that  if  sent  through  the  mail  it 
might  carry  the  elusive  germ.  Was  not  this  equal 
to  any  instance  of  valor  under  the  excitement  or  the 
stress  of  battle  and  cannonade?  Could  anyone  more 
worthily  win  a  Victorian  Cross,  or  any  other  emblem 
of  courage  and  heroism? 

Many  of  you  have  been  in,  or  will  go  to  Havana. 
It  will  be  worth  your  while  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  cemetery  there,  where  were  buried  sixteen  young 
medical  students  who  lost  their  lives  under  peculiar 
circumstances,  which  afford  as  well  an  illustration  of 
Spanish  tyranny  and  injustice.  In  1871  one  of  the 
professors  in  the  medical  school  died,  and  was  fol¬ 
lowed  to  his  grave  by  the  students  whom  he  had 
taught,  and  who  loved  him.  Unfortunately  they 
committed  an  indiscretion  by  scribbling  with  a  pencil 
in  a  public  place  some  criticism  on  the  government; 
in  consequence  they  were  reported,  arrested  and 
court-martialed.  The  written  paragraphs  were  evi¬ 
dence  sufficient,  and  the  Governor  General  ordered 
the  ranks  of  students  to  be  decimated.  There  were 
160  students  all  told,  and  in  accordance  with  this 
sentence  sixteen  of  them  were  next  day  shot  without 
any  further  ceremony.  Of  these  the  youngest  was 
not  quite  sixteen  years  old,  and  his  father  offered  his 
entire  fortune  for  his  life,  but  without  avail.  Later 
the  citizens  of  Havana  erected  a  monument  of  white 
marble,  at  no  small  cost,  to  commemorate  this  sacri¬ 
fice. 

There  comes  over  me,  as  I  prepare  these  words  to 


284  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


read  to  you,  a  feeling  of  their  inadequacy,  and  of 
lack  of  personal  justice  to  many  of  my  auditors. 
Brought  up  in  civil  life,  with  but  a  smattering  of  mili¬ 
tary  training,  I  am  rehearsing  incidents  of  which  you 
may  read  as  easily  as  I,  while  at  the  same  time  I  do 
not  forget  that  from  the  lives  of  many  of  my  audi¬ 
tors  there  might  be  drawn  just  as  many  illustrations 
of  courage,  fortitude,  endurance  and  personal  valor 
as  any  that  the  Surgeon  General’s  library  records. 
Unfortunately  I  am  not  familiar  with  them.  They 
are,  happily  in  one  respect,  too  numerous  to  mention, 
and  again  are  not  yet  public  property,  because  mod¬ 
esty  is  ever  the  accompaniment  of  these  other  traits 
which  we  all  admire  so  much.  Hence,  gentlemen,  if 
I  seem  to  you  to  disregard  or  forget  many  an  inci¬ 
dent  in  your  lives  or  the  careers  of  your  friends, 
ascribe  it  to  my  ignorance  rather  than  to  my  intent, 
and  to  the  fact  that  I  have  never  seen  a  battle,  and 
that  my  fights  with  disease  have  not  been  fought  in 
camps,  but  within  the  walls  of  the  quiet  sick  room 
or  hospital  ward.  Nevertheless  I  am  never  happier 
than  when  I  can  try  to  compel  a  wider  public  recog¬ 
nition  of  what  you  are  constantly  doing  and  of  your 
valorous  deeds. 

Next  to  those  general  improvements  in  the  service 
which  have  come  about  through  natural  causes,  and 
as  results  of  a  better  appreciation  of  its  needs,  and 
of  a  generally  improved  state  of  the  profession, 
nothing  has  come  from  outside  during  the  past  fifty 
years  which  has  been  so  helpful  and  advantageous 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  285 

as  the  support  afforded  by  the  Red  Cross,  and  the 
introduction  of  skilled  nurses;  in  fact  the  greatest 
help  which  the  medical  service  of  the  army  and  navy 
can  enjoy  is  that  which  comes  from  this  volunteer 
and  outside  source.  By  the  way,  I  wonder  how 
many  of  you  recall,  or  are  familiar  with,  the  begin¬ 
nings  of  the  Red  Cross  movement?  So  important 
has  it  become  that  its  history  should  be  well  known 
to  all.  In  June,  1859,  was  fought  the  bloody  battle 
of  Solferino,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  some  36,000 
French,  Sardinian  and  Austrian  soldiers  lay  dead  or 
dying  on  the  field.  The  medical  corps  was,  of  course, 
absolutely  inadequate  to  the  work  thrown  upon  them, 
and  as  usual  thousands  of  wounded  men  had  to  care 
for  themselves  as  best  they  could.  A  Swiss  traveler, 
Henri  Dunant,  viewing  the  scenes,  and  being  pro¬ 
foundly  impressed  by  them,  not  only  assisted  in  the 
work  of  relief,  but  wrote  a  book  entitled,  “A  Souv¬ 
enir  of  Solferino,”  in  which  he  urged  more  humane, 
widespread  and  speedy  aid  to  the  wounded.  M. 
Moynier,  president  of  the  Society  of  Public  Utility, 
of  Geneva,  a  man  of  independent  means;  Dr.  Appia, 
a  wise  physician,  and  M.  Ador,  an  eminent  lawyer  of 
Geneva,  also  became  interested  in  the  movement. 
The  attention  of  the  General  of  the  Swiss  Army  was 
called  to  it  and  his  co-operation  enlisted.  In  this 
way  came  about,  in  1863,  the  formation  of  a  perma¬ 
nent  society  for  the  relief  of  wounded  soldiers.  At 
a  meeting  held  in  October  in  the  same  year  men  from 
many  countries  joined  in  discussing  the  subject,  and 


286  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


an  international  conference  was  held,  which  resulted 
in  calling  an  international  convention,  to  be  held  at 
Geneva  in  the  autumn  of  1864. 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  the  Red  Cross  move¬ 
ment,  which  has  now  extended  all  over  the  world,  and 
has  afforded  an  opportunity  for  all  races,  creeds  and 
nationalities  to  care  for  those  who  are  made  victims 
of  war  or  pestilence,  or  who  suffer  from  any  other 
great  disaster  with  which  private  charity  is  unable  to 
cope.  It  marks  a  step  in  the  evolution  of  mankind, 
and  has  now  achieved  such  nniversal  recogntion  that 
national  governments  and  individual  potentates  are 
glad  to  join  hands  in  the  great  work. 

A  more  concrete  application  of  the  same  idea  has 
been  the  comparatively  recent  formation  of  ambu¬ 
lance  corps  and  later  of  nursing  bureaus,  within  our 
own  service,  and  the  employment  of  trained  nurses. 
This  has  not  been  in  all  respects  an  easy  matter  to 
bring  about,  nevertheless  it  has  redounded  to  the 
credit  and  to  the  welfare  of  all  concerned.  Never  at 
any  time  were  the  sick  and  injured,  either  in  private 
or  in  military  practice,  so  well  cared  for  as  now,  and 
America  should  lead  the  world  to-day,  as  ever,  in  the 
adequacy  of  its  provisions  and  the  perfection  of  its 
methods.  In  private  this  is  notably  the  case  in  ordin¬ 
ary  hospital  work,  as  seen  by  all  travelers,  upon  the 
continent  and  in  Great  Britain,  who  take  pains  to 
make  comparisons  with  the  way  in  which  things  are 
done  there  and  in  our  own  country.  Although  Flor¬ 
ence  Nightingale  immortalized  herself  by  showing 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  287 


what  woman  could  do  on  the  battle  field  and  in  mili¬ 
tary  camps,  it  has  remained  for  Americans  to  im¬ 
prove  upon  the  lessons  which  she  taught,  while  at  the 
same  time  revering  her  for  her  wonderful  devotion  to 
her  self-imposed  duty  and  her  enthusiasm.  In  its 
performance  the  lessons  of  the  Crimean  and  the 
Civil  War,  for  instance,  have  left  their  impressions 
upon  history  in  such  a  way  as  may  never  be  erased, 
and  certainly  no  one  was  ever  more  entitled  to  the 
designation  of  “angel  of  the  sick  room”  than  was 
Miss  Nightingale. 

Wars  of  conquest  bring  about  curious  results  and 
in  unexpected  ways.  While  greed,  lust  and  fanatic¬ 
ism  have  been  the  three  great  impelling  and  underly¬ 
ing  motives  for  most  of  the  wars  which  man  thrusts 
upon  his  fellow-men,  one  far  nobler  motive  has  been 
the  occasional  and  the  only  just  cause  of  strife,  name¬ 
ly,  the  desire  for  liberty;  still  this  is  always  second¬ 
ary  and  the  product  of  some  other  man’s  or  people’s 
greed.  As  only  by  the  cataclysms  of  the  natural  world 
has  it  been  prepared  for  man’s  habitation,  so  by  some 
wars  have  come  benefits  unforeseen,  with  an  ameliora¬ 
tion  of  the  condition  of  mankind  in  general,  which 
could  not  have  been  secured  by  any  less  drastic  meas¬ 
ures.  It  is,  however,  a  sad  commentary  on  man’s 
intelligence  that  most  honor  is  paid  to  those  who  have 
taken  the  most  lives  rather  than  to  those  who  have 
saved  them.  No  school  boy  in  the  remotest  districts 
but  is  brought  up  with  some  trifling  knowledge  of  the 
world’s  heroes,  so-called,  though  they  were  in  reality 


288  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


the  world’s  wholesale  murderers.  Yet  you  may  find 
many  persons,  credited  with  higher  education,  who 
are  still  densely  ignorant  of  the  benefits  conferred  by 
those  two  greatest  discoveries  in  the  world’s  history 
(both  of  Anglo-Saxon  origin),  anaethesia  and  anti¬ 
sepsis,  who  will  talk  entertainingly  and  at  length  of 
Darius,  Caesar,  Hannibal  and  the  more  modern  mili¬ 
tary  lights,  yet  who  never  heard  of  Morton  nor  of 
Lister.  Yet  if  to-day  you  inquire  what  is  doing  in 
the  various  parliaments  of  the  world  you  learn  that 
the  talk  is  ever  of  more  numerous  and  more  powerful 
engines  of  destruction,  and  that  those  in  power  have 
no  time  to  devote  to  improvements  in  the  army  or 
navy  medical  service,  and  that  it  is  even  now  impos¬ 
sible  to  secure  anything  like  adequate  attention  to  our 
needs  in  this  direction. 

Means  of  taking  human  life  must  be  constantly  at 
hand;  means  of  saving  it  are  of  small  importance  un¬ 
til  the  emergency  has  arisen ;  and  then  the  blame  for 
inadequate  provision  of  both  means  and  men  falls  not 
where  it  belongs,  on  the  politicians  who  would  not 
look  ahead,  but  upon  the  administration  of  the  med¬ 
ical  department,  who  work  to  the  point  of  despera¬ 
tion  and  despair  in  times  of  peace,  who  keep  per¬ 
petual  vigil,  with  scant  recognition  of  the  sacredness 
of  their  purpose,  and  scant  aid  in  its  accomplishment. 

Are  the  lessons  of  the  South  African,  the  Spanish- 
American  and  the  Russo-Japanese  wars  to  be  forgot¬ 
ten  almost  before  they  have  been  recited?  Are  we 
prepared  to-day  to  give  adequate  care  and  attention 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  289 


to  our  soldiers  and  sailors  were  war  in  sight?  You 
well  know  that  we  are  not;  every  military  or  naval 
surgeon  knows  we  are  not;  the  medical  profession 
generally  knows  it;  and  our  legislators  have  been  told 
it  until  we  are  tired  of  repeating  it.  Yet,  what  is  the 
result?  The  same  indifference  on  their  part,  the  same 
ignorance  of  what  it  all  means;  and  on  the  part  of 
the  public  the  same  blindness  and  fatuous  confidence 
that  “everything  is  all  right.” 

For  instance,  if  an  adequate  medical  service  is  to 
be  built  up  for  war  there  should  be  one  officer  to 
every  100  of  enlisted  men.  Estimating  that  an  army 
of  at  least  400,000  men  would  be  required  were  we 
engaged  with  a  first-class  power — and  what  other 
would  dare  to  engage  with  us? — this  means  4,000 
army  surgeons.  Of  these  at  least  one-fourth  should 
be  regular  and  experienced  medical  officers.  In  oth¬ 
er  words,  there  should  be  for  such  an  army  at  least 
1,000  medical  officers  in  the  regular  service,  and  also 
at  least  3,000  volunteer  surgeons,  professionally  and 
physically  equipped  for  such  work.  Should  anyone 
object  that  this  exceeds  all  the  provisions  of  time 
past,  the  reply  is  ready  and  all  sufficient,  namely,  that 
in  time  past  all  such  provisions  have  been  utterly  in¬ 
adequate;  that  the  conditions  of  modern  warfare 
have  undergone  an  entire  change,  that  a  sick,  wound¬ 
ed  or  disabled  man  is  an  encumbrance,  and  that  it 
behooves  us  to  prevent  sickness,  and  to  cure  the  dis¬ 
abled  man  as  quickly  as  possible.  Furthermore,  ad¬ 
vances  in  medicine  and  surgery  have  been  so  great 


29o  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


that  far  more  is  now  expected  of  the  medical  corps 
than  ever  before,  and  it  is  a  duty  which  we  owe  to 
those  who  incur  the  dangers  of  fighting  for  us  that 
we  should  care  for  them.  We  are,  therefore,  under 
the  very  highest  moral  obligation  to  give  them  our 
best,  and  enough  of  it.  It  must  be  a  small  induce¬ 
ment  that  we  offer  to  men  to  fight  our  battles  if  we 
permit  them  to  feel  that  they  are  not  objects  of  our 
solicitude  when  sick  or  wounded. 

There  is  another  feature  which  we  cannot  disre¬ 
gard.  So  long  as  army  regulations  require  that  a 
man  educated  in  advanced  science  spend  much  of  his 
valuable  time  in  acting  as  bookkeeper  or  clerk,  there 
will  be  less  inducement  to  enter  the  service,  and  it 
will  consequently  not  attract  men  of  highest  pro¬ 
ficiency.  That  which  is  required  of  you  is  compli¬ 
cated  and  exacting.  You  must  be  good  bookkeepers, 
good  sanitarians,  and  equally  good  surgeons,  physi¬ 
cians  and  even  obstetricians.  Above  all,  you  are  ex¬ 
pected  to  be  able  to  keep  all  the  men  under  your 
supervision  ready  for  the  “firing  line”  at  a  moment’s 
notice.  You  have  received  the  highest  compliment 
which  the  State  can  pay  when  you  have  been  ad¬ 
judged  versatile  and  competent  enough  to  fill  all 
these  roles  and  do  all  these  things. 

Moreover,  as  you  gain  promotion  other  things 
will  be  expected  of  you,  even,  I  hope,  the  filling  of 
the  chairs  in  this  modern  Military  Medical  School. 
It  is  in  a  way  the  West  Point  of  the  medical  corps, 
and  it  would  seem  as  though  there  should  not  be  the 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  291 


slightest  difficulty  in  replenishing  vacancies  in  its 
faculty  by  detail  from  your  ranks.  The  collections 
and  the  literary  labors  of  your  corps  constitute  to¬ 
day  treasures  exceeded  in  value  by  but  few  if  any  in 
this,  the  Nation’s  Capital.  The  library,  the  museum 
and  the  archives  of  the  medical  department  have 
been  models  from  which  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 
have  copied. 

In  this  connection  there  occurs  to  me,  by  way  of 
contrast,  the  story  of  a  French  surgeon’s  experiences 
when  he  undertook  to  teach  anatomy  in  a  conquered 
and  reconstructed  country. 

After  the  French  occupation  of  Egypt,  Mehemet 
Ali  took  it  into  his  head  to  introduce  European  civil¬ 
ization  into  Africa,  and  imported  all  sorts  of  artists, 
scientists  and  medical  men,  among  them  a  practition¬ 
er  of  Marseilles,  a  true  Bohemian  in  the  modern  ac¬ 
ceptance  of  the  expression,  who  presented  himself 
in  most  seedy  apparel,  saying,  “I  am  a  doctor  of 
medicine,  with  plenty  of  courage,  but  no  clothes;  I 
want  to  try  my  fortune.”  This  man  was  Dr.  Clot, 
who  rapidly  became  a  favorite  of  the  Viceroy.  He 
soon  learned  Arabic  so  as  to  speak  it  fluently,  and  in 
six  months  not  only  received  an  army  commission, 
and  became  a  Bey,  but  took  the  chair  of  anatomy  in 
the  newly  organized  school  of  medicine.  Conditions 
were  all  against  him.  Mussulman  fanaticism  and 
the  prohibitions  of  the  Koran  opposed  all  anatomical 
pursuits,  and  so  soon  as  he  proposed  a  dissection 
there  was  a  general  explosion.  By  Mohammedan 


292  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


ceremonial  one  who  even  touches  a  dead  body  is 
thereby  rendered  “unclean”  for  seven  days.  The 
Ulemas,  the  Muftis,  and  all  of  the  other  fanatics, 
demanded  of  the  Viceroy  the  closure  of  the  school, 
and  declared  dissection  a  sacrilegious  profanation. 
Mehemet  refused  this,  and  ordered  Clot  Bey  to  com¬ 
mence  his  demonstrations.  Then  one  day  happened 
the  following  incident:  The  professor,  scalpel  in 
hand,  standing  alongside  the  cadaver,  began  to  open 
the  thorax,  when  one  of  the  students,  either  from 
sheer  fanaticism,  or  more  bold  than  the  others, 
jumped  upon  him  and  stabbed  him  with  a  poignard. 
The  blade  slid  over  the  ribs,  and  Clot  Bey,  perceiv¬ 
ing  that  he  was  not  seriously  hurt,  applied  a  piece  of 
plaster  to  the  wound,  observing  as  he  did  so,  “We 
were  speaking  of  the  disposition  of  the  sternum  and 
the  ribs,  and  I  now  can  illustrate  to  you  why  a  blow 
directed  from  above  has  so  little  chance  of  pene¬ 
trating  the  cavity  of  the  thorax.”  He  continued  his 
lectures,  and  turned  out  some  skilful  practitioners. 
He  became  an  officer  of  almost  every  order  in  the 
world,  and  acquired  more  than  sixty  decorations,  al¬ 
though  he  never  wore  but  one,  the  red  rosette  of  his 
own  country.  ( Med .  Times  and  Gazette,  Septem¬ 
ber  19,  1868.) 

While  just  such  an  experience  may  never  be  dupli¬ 
cated  again,  the  Philippines,  or  some  other  country 
yet  to  fall  under  our  rule,  may  afford  an  opportunity 
for  a  similar  display  of  sang  froid. 

While  no  one  may  see  far  into  the  future,  the 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  293 

maxim,  “In  time  of  peace  prepare  for  war,”  is  as 
true  of  the  medical  department  as  of  any.  Were  it 
a  state  secret  no  one  would  breathe  it  here,  but  it  is 
lamentably  true  and  publicly  known  that  even  now 
we  are  not  prepared  as  we  should  be.  The  awful 
lessons  of  the  Spanish  War  have  been  forgotten. 
West  Point  officers  have  until  comparatively  recently 
received  no  instruction  in  camp  sanitation.  Some  of 
us  worked  hard  a  while  ago  to  have  at  least  elemen¬ 
tary  instruction  in  it  introduced  into  their  curriculum. 
As  an  illustration  I  believe  that  to-day  they  are 
taught  more  about  horse’s  feet  and  how  to  keep 
them  in  good  condition,  than  about  those  of  their 
men.  Line  officers,  especially  volunteer,  have  never 
been  too  ready  to  locate  their  camps  where  water 
and  drainage  were  the  best,  and  the  awful  mortality 
of  the  Spanish  War  was  mainly  due  to  preventable 
disease,  while  this  was  due  to  stupid  and  inexcusable 
disregard,  on  the  part  of  officers  of  the  line  (mainly 
volunteer)  of  the  advice  of  their  medical  officers. 

But,  after  all,  gentlemen,  the  discouragements  you 
will  meet  with  will  be  far  fewer  than  those  with 
which  your  predecessors  had  to  contend,  while  the 
pleasant  side  of  your  lives  will  be  far  pleasanter  than 
was  theirs.  In  fact,  I  think  your  lives  have  in  many 
respects  fallen  in  pleasanter  places  than  have  ours. 
Discipline  and  order  protect  you  to  a  large  extent 
from  quackery  and  idiocy.  The  fads  of  the  day  dis¬ 
appear  before  the  appearance  of  the  flag  and  the 
sound  of  the  drum.  So-called  Christian  Science  finds 


294  CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON 


no  place  in  your  curriculum,  and  it  will  be  long,  I 
trust,  before  the  army  chaplain  tinctures  the  military 
hospital  with  sectarian  therapeutics  or  an  Emanuel 
church  cult.  If  by  entering  the  army  one  may  escape 
disgusting  influences  of  this  character,  then  it  may 
become  such  a  refuge  that  it  shall  thereby  be  made 
both  inviting  and  invincible. 

It  is  pleasing  to  those  of  us  who  co-operated  in  the 
movement,  to  have  the  assurances  of  the  Surgeon 
General  that  the  establishment  of  the  Medical  Re¬ 
serve  Corps  has  been  of  actual  benefit  to  the  regular 
Army  Medical  Department.  While  the  military 
rank  to  which  its  members  found  themselves  sudden¬ 
ly  elevated  was  not  so  lofty  as  to  cause  any  attacks 
of  vertigo,  none  having  been  up  to  the  present  day 
reported,  it  at  least  gives  us  satisfaction  to  realize 
that  help  may  thus  be  afforded  from  private  life,  and 
that  a  closer  rapport  has  been  effected. 

And  now  it  is  well  nigh  as  difficult  a  task  to  ap¬ 
propriately  conclude  these  remarks  as  to  begin  them. 
Men  come  and  go;  a  few  leave  imprints  of  their 
footsteps;  the  vast  majority  make  no  impression  that 
lingers. 

“Some  when  they  die,  die  all;  their  mouldering  clay 
Is  but  an  emblem  of  their  memories; 

The  space  quite  closes  up  through  which  they 
passed.” 

Fain  would  I  believe  that  many  of  you  would 
make  enduring  records.  Yet  each  can  do  his  best, 


CAREER  OF  ARMY  SURGEON  295 

and  I  doubt  not  each  will  do  it.  You  have  so  much 
to  encourage  you,  so  comparatively  little  to  hamper 
or  hold  back.  Glorious  is  your  work,  glorious  may 
be  your  fulfillment  of  it.  We  have  lived  in  a  goodly 
time;  you  will  enjoy  one  still  more  goodly.  With 
scientific  progress,  whose  like  the  world  has  never 
known,  and  with  an  altruism  which  makes  the  world 
constantly  better,  you  will  be  able  to  do  things  never 
done  by  your  predecessors. 

“  ’Tis  coming  up  the  steeps  of  time, 

And  this  old  world  is  growing  brighter ! 

We  may  not  see  its  dawn  sublime, 

Yet  high  hopes  make  the  heart  throb  lighter! 

Our  dust  may  slumber  underground 
When  it  awakens  the  world  in  wonder; 

But  we  have  felt  it  gathering  ’round ! 

We  have  heard  its  voice  of  distant  thunder. 

’Tis  coming!  Yes,  ’tis  coming! 

“  ’Tis  coming  now,  that  glorious  time 
Foretold  by  seers  and  sung  in  story, 

For  which,  when  thinking  was  a  crime, 

Souls  leaped  to  heaven  from  scaffolds  gory! 

They  passed.  But  lo !  the  work  they  wrought ! 
Now  the  crowned  hopes  of  centuries  blossom, 

The  lightning  of  their  living  thought 
Is  flashing  through  us,  brain  and  bosom; 

’Tis  coming!  Yes,  ’tis  coming.” 


XI 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON 

FROM  THE  BARBER 

IF  one  attempt  to  scan  the  field  of  the  history  of 
medicine,  to  take  note  of  all  the  fallacies  and 
superstitions  which  have  befogged  men’s  minds, 
and  brought  about  what  now  seem  to  be  the 
most  absurd  and  revolting  views  and  practices  of 
times  gone  by,  and  if  one  search  deliberately  for  that 
which  is  of  curious  nature,  or  calculated  to  serve  as 
a  riddle  difficult  of  solution,  he  will  scarcely  in  the 
tomes  which  he  may  consult  find  anything  stranger 
than  the  close  connection,  nay,  even  the  identity  main¬ 
tained  for  centuries,  between  the  trade  of  the  barber 
and  the  craft  of  the  surgeon.  Even  after  having 
studied  history  and  the  various  laws  passed  at  differ¬ 
ent  times,  he  will  still  miss  the  predominant  yet  con¬ 
cealed  reason  for  this  state  of  affairs.  This  will  be 
found  to  be,  in  the  words  of  Paget,  the  “maintenance 
of  vested  rights  as  if  they  were  better  than  the  pro¬ 
motion  of  knowledge.”  He  will  wonder  also  why 
women  were  licensed  to  practise  surgery  in  the  four¬ 
teenth  century  and  prevented  in  the  nineteenth,  or  why 
specialties  were  legally  recognized  in  the  sixteenth 
century  only  to  lose  their  dignity  and  identity  a  little 
later. 

In  thus  attempting  to  consider  the  relations  which 

296 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON  297 

have  existed  in  time  past  between  barbers  and  sur¬ 
geons  I  must  ask  you  to  remember  that  there  was  a 
time  when  bleeding  was  deemed  necessary  for  the  cure 
of  almost  all  ailments,  and  that  after  the  Church  had 
condemned  the  shedding  of  blood  by  any  of  her  of¬ 
ficials  it  was  most  natural  to  turn  for  assistance  to 
the  barbers,  who  were  supposed  to  be  dexterous  with 
sharp  instruments,  with  basins  and  with  towels. 
Thus  it  happened  that  when  the  barbers  found  them¬ 
selves  permitted  to  perform  this  sole  act  they  natur¬ 
ally  ventured  further  and  practised  many  parts  of 
minor  surgery  independently  of  the  ecclesiastics. 

Moreover  there  persist  to-day  in  Europe  many 
relics  of  the  old  customs,  and  the  barber  surgeon  is 
still  a  common  figure  in  Germany,  and  particularly 
in  Russia,  where  the  really  educated  surgeons  are 
still  too  few  for  a  vast  and  widespread  population. 
It  must  be  remembered  also  that  the  Church  grad¬ 
ually  imbued  men’s  minds  with  a  horror  of  a  dead 
body,  and  of  the  profanation  which  followed  having 
anything  to  do  with  it,  and  surrounded  the  study  of 
anatomy  with  every  possible  obstacle  and  obloquy; 
even  to  such  an  extent  that  to  be  known  as  having 
dissected  a  human  body  was  to  be  exposed  to  indig¬ 
nity,  assault  and  even  death.  It  was,  therefore  only 
intense  yearning  for  knowledge,  on  the  part  of 
earnest  men,  which  then  permitted  anatomical  in¬ 
struction  to  be  given  or  encouraged. 

During  the  middle  ages  the  greatest  medical 
school  in  the  world  was  situated  at  Salernum  (or 


298  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON 


Salerno),  but  a  short  distance  from  Naples.  This 
is  not  the  place  in  which  to  discuss  its  history,  al¬ 
though  it  became  famous  above  almost  every  other 
institution  of  learning  of  any  kind,  and  though,  by 
one  of  the  freaks  of  history,  even  the  site  of  the 
buildings  is  now  lost  and  no  one  seems  to  know  just 
where  they  stood.  In  his  time,  namely,  in  1240,  the 
Emperor  Frederick  II  was  the  great  patron  of  this 
college ;  his  decrees  concerning  the  regulation  of  the 
study  and  practice  of  medicine  deserve  attention  to¬ 
day.  A  part  of  one  of  his  enactments  reads  as  fol¬ 
lows :  “Since  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  understand 
medical  science  only  if  he  has  previously  learned 
something  of  logic,  we  ordain  that  no  one  shall  be 
permitted  to  study  medicine  until  he  has  given  his 
attention  to  logic  for  three  years.  After  these  three 
years  he  may  if  he  wishes  proceed  to  the  study  of 
medicine.”  And  again:  “No  surgeon  shall  be  al¬ 
lowed  to  practise  until  he  has  submitted  certificates 
in  writing,  of  the  teachers  of  the  faculty  of  medicine, 
that  he  has  spent  at  least  one  year  in  that  part  of 
medical  science  which  gives  skill  in  the  practice  of 
surgery,  that  in  the  college  he  has  diligently  and  es¬ 
pecially  studied  the  anatomy  of  the  human  body,  and 
is  also  thoroughly  experienced  in  the  way  in  which 
operations  are  successfully  performed  and  healing 
afterwards  brought  about.” 

When  first  we  hear  of  medical  men  in  Great 
Britain  they  were  commonly  spoken  of  as  leeches f 
as  among  the  Danes  and  Saxons ;  later  the  clergy  in- 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON  299 

troduced  books  from  Rome,  and  almost  every  Mon¬ 
astery  had  some  brother  possessed  of  more  or  less 
knowledge  of  the  medicine  of  the  day.  The  College 
of  Salernum  later  gave  great  impetus  to  the  study  of 
medicine,  even  before  the  days  of  William  the  Con¬ 
queror,  which  was  strengthened  by  the  influence 
emanating  from  Naples,  and  particularly  from 
Montpellier.  For  centuries  the  Catholic  clergy  were 
almost  the  only  persons  with  sufficient  education  to 
study  and  practise  physic;  which  profession  became 
in  time  so  lucrative  that  many  of  the  monks  aban¬ 
doned  their  monasteries,  neglecting  their  religious 
duties,  and  applied  themselves  to  the  study  of  medi¬ 
cine.  To  such  an  extent  was  this  true  that  in  1163 
the  Council  of  Tours  forbade  monks  staying  out  of 
the  monastery  for  more  than  two  months  at  a  time, 
or  teaching  or  practising  physic.  In  taking  this  ac¬ 
tion  the  Council  only  repeated  what  had  been  or¬ 
dained  by  decree  of  Henry  III  in  1216,  and  by  the 
second  Council  of  Lateran  in  1139.  No  restraint 
was  at  first  placed  upon  the  secular  clergy,  and  many 
of  the  Bishops  and  other  church  dignitaries  gained 
both  money  and  honor  by  acting  as  physicians  to 
Kings  and  Princesses. 

Next  to  the  clergy  the  Jews  possessed  the  largest 
share  of  learning.  Their  nomadic  life  permitted  an 
intercourse  with  the  different  nations  of  the  world, 
which  was  denied  to  most  others,  and  there  were 
many  who  studied  medicine  and  practised,  not  only 
among  those  of  their  own  race  but  amongst  Moors 


300  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON 


and  Christians  alike.  The  priests  became  extremely 
jealous  of  Jewish  physicians  and  of  lay  surgeons,  and 
endeavored  to  secure  through  Rome  a  formal  ex- 
communication  of  all  who  committed  themselves  to 
the  care  of  a  Jew,  while  by  canon  law  no  Jew  might 
give  medicine  to  a  Christian.  But  so  celebrated  were 
the  Jewish  physicians,  and  so  superior  to  everything 
else  was  men’s  desire  for  life  and  strength,  that  even 
the  power  of  Rome  could  not  exclude  them  from 
practice.  Still  less  could  the  clergy  restrain  the  lay 
surgeons  from  the  performance  of  their  craft,  and 
though  it  would  appear  that  at  first,  in  England,  the 
priests  were  not  disposed  to  separate  surgery  from 
medicine,  the  Pope  became  jealous  of  so  much  inter¬ 
ruption  to  the  duties  of  the  clergy  and  looked  upon 
the  manual  part  of  surgery  as  detracting  from  cleri¬ 
cal  dignity.  Accordingly  were  made  numerous  at¬ 
tempts  to  debar  priests  from  the  performance  of 
surgical  operations.  In  1215  the  ecclesiastics  were 
prohibited  by  Pope  Innocent  III  from  undertaking 
any  operation  involving  the  shedding  of  blood,  while 
by  Boniface  VIII  at  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  cen¬ 
tury,  and  Clement  V,  about  the  beginning  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  surgery  was  formally  separated 
from  physic  and  the  priests  positively  forbidden  to 
practice  it.  It  is  to  the  Church  then  that  we  owe  this 
absolute  abandonment  of  surgery  to  an  illiterate  and 
grasping  laity.  For  some  time,  however,  the  priests 
kept  their  hold  upon  surgery  by  instructing  their  ser¬ 
vants,  the  barbers,  who  were  employed  to  shave 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON  301 

their  own  priestly  beards,  in  the  performance  of 
minor  operations.  It  was  these  men,  who  were  in 
some  degree  qualified  by  the  instruction  of  the  clergy, 
who  first  assumed  the  title  of  barber  surgeons,  and 
who  gradually  formed  a  great  fraternity. 

In  France  it  was  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV  that 
the  hairdressers  were  formally  separated  from  the 
barber-surgeons,  the  latter  being  incorporated  as  a 
distinct  medical  body.  In  London  it  was  in  1375 
that  the  Company  of  Barbers  were  practically  di¬ 
vided  into  two  sections,  containing  respectively  those 
who  practiced  shaving,  and  those  who  practiced  sur¬ 
gery.  In  1460  the  surgeons  were  finally  incorpor¬ 
ated  by  themselves  as  the  Guild  of  Surgeons  and 
took  their  place  as  one  of  the  liveried  companies  of 
the  city  of  London.  Similar  separation  occurred  in 
the  original  great  Guild  of  Weavers,  who  divided 
into  the  Woollen  Drapers  and  Linen  Armourers,  the 
latter  afterwards  becoming  the  wealthy  and  power¬ 
ful  Company  of  Merchant  Tailors. 

To  trace  the  history  of  the  London  Company  of 
Barbers  a  little  more  fully,  it  was  first  formed  in 
1308  and  incorporated  in  1462  by  a  charter.  In  one 
of  the  statutes  of  Henry  VIII  it  was  enacted  that: 
“No  person  using  any  shaving  or  barbery  in  London 
shall  occult  (i.  e.  practise)  any  surgery,  letting  of 
blood  or  other  matter  except  only  drawing  of  teeth.” 
In  1540  Parliament  passed  an  act  allowing  the 
United  Companies  of  Barbers  and  Surgeons  each  to 
have  yearly  the  bodies  of  four  criminals  for  dissec- 


302  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON 


tion.  In  1518  the  barbers  and  surgeons  were  united 
in  one  company;  the  former  being  restricted  from  all 
operations  except  tooth  drawing,  and  the  latter  hav¬ 
ing  to  abandon  shaving  and  hair  dressing. 

It  is  interesting  also  to  note  that  in  Oxford,  for 
instance,  the  Barbers,  Surgeons,  Waferers  and  Mak¬ 
ers  of  “Singing  bread”  were  all  of  the  same  fellow¬ 
ship,  from  1348  to  1500;  when,  at  last,  the  Cappers, 
or  knitters  of  caps,  were  united  to  them,  in  1551,  the 
barbers  and  waferers  abrogated  their  charter  and 
took  one  in  the  name  of  the  city,  until  1675,  when 
they  received  a  charter  from  the  University. 

The  London  Guild  of  Surgeons  appears  to  have 
been  first  a  mere  fraternity  which  had  incorporated  it¬ 
self,  and  to  have  originated  from  an  association  of 
the  military  barber  surgeons  who  had  been  trained 
in  the  hundred  years  war  with  France,  1337  to  1444. 
Its  membership,  however,  was  select,  and  when  the 
physicians  declined  an  alliance  with  it,  it  amalga¬ 
mated  with  the  barber  companies  in  1540.  The 
United  Company  of  Barbers  and  Surgeons  was  pe¬ 
culiar  in  that  strangers  and  those  who  were  not  free 
men  were  admitted,  while  the  journeymen  of  the 
craft  formed  a  subordinate  body  within  the  com¬ 
pany.  In  1745  the  surgeons  separated  from  the  bar¬ 
bers  and  formed  a  surgeon’s  company  which  rapidly 
acquired  influence.  By  a  foolish  blunder  it  forfeited 
its  charter  in  1496  but  was  subsequently  incorporated 
by  George  III,  in  1800,  as  the  Royal  College  of  Sur¬ 
geons  in  London;  a  body  which  has  since  main- 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON  303 


tained  its  identity,  grown  tremendously  in  wealth 
and  strength,  and  having  become  one  of  the  licensing 
bodies  of  England,  has  acquired  the  finest  collection 
of  books  and  specimens  in  the  world  and  has  num¬ 
bered  the  brightest  intellects  which  the  English  sur¬ 
gical  profession  has  contained. 

In  Dublin  the  Barber  Surgeons  were  incorporated 
as  a  guild  by  charter  granted  by  Henry  VI,  in  1446. 
In  1576  they  were  amalgamated  with  the  independent 
surgeons,  and  by  Queen  Elizabeth  with  the  barber 
surgeons  and  wig-makers.  This  confraternity  was 
dissolved  in  1784  and  the  College  of  Surgeons  found¬ 
ed  immediately  afterwards.  In  Edinburgh  the  bar¬ 
bers  and  surgeons  were  united  in  1505,  to  be  sepa¬ 
rated  at  about  the  same  time  as  elsewhere  in  Great 
Britain. 

During  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  on 
the  continent  medicine  and  surgery  were  abruptly  sep¬ 
arated,  and  the  latter  was  almost  entirely  in  the  hands 
of  the  barbers.  For  hundreds  of  years  the  dissection 
of  corpses  and  the  embalming  of  those  who  could  af¬ 
ford  it,  were  in  the  hands  of  first  the  butchers  and 
later  of  the  barbers.  The  greatest  contempt  was 
everywhere  shown  for  one  who  attempted  any  sur¬ 
gery.  If  for  instance  a  nobleman  while  being  bled 
by  a  barber  received  the  slightest  harm  the  poor  bar¬ 
ber  was  heavily  fined,  while,  should  the  gentleman 
die,  the  culprit  was  given  into  the  hands  of  the  dead 
man’s  relatives  to  be  dealt  with  as  they  desired. 
Throughout  the  monasteries  and  whenever  the  in- 


304  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON 


fluence  of  the  Church  was  felt  it  was  forbidden  to  the 
monks,  who  had  the  monopoly  of  knowledge,  to  per¬ 
form  any  surgical  operation  since  the  Church  ab¬ 
horred  the  shedding  of  blood.* 

For  hundreds  of  years  the  monks  were  not  allowed 
to  wear  a  beard;  this  necessitated  the  employment  of 
tonsors  (“tonsorial-artists”  they  call  themselves  to¬ 
day)  to  whom  was  left  also  the  performance  of  any¬ 
thing  that  partook  of  the  nature  of  an  operation,  such 
as  bleeding,  bandaging,  etc.  This  calling,  was  how¬ 
ever,  recognized  as  a  most  inferior  one,  and  the 
barbers,  like  the  bathkeeper,  the  shepherd  and  the 
hangman,  were  not  considered  of  good  repute.  Con¬ 
sequently,  such  an  one  was  not  eligible  for  member¬ 
ship  in  any  other  guilds  or  fraternities.  In  1406  the 
Emperor  Wenzel  was  rescued  from  prison,  in  Prague, 
by  the  daughter  of  a  bathkeeper;  in  gratitude  he 
made  her  his  mistress,  and  declared  both  barbers  and 
bathkeepers  to  be  respectable;  but  having  lost  his 
position  his  decree  had  no  weight,  and  not  until  1548, 
in  Augsburg,  were  they  really  made  eligible  to  the 
guilds.  At  this  time  their  most  dignified  labor  was 
the  sharpening  of  instruments.  In  1696  Leopold  I. 
decreed  their  profession  to  be  an  art,  and  gave  it  a 
position  above  that  of  the  apothecary  so  that  in  their 
most  dignified  occupation  they  were  elevated  to  the 
making  of  ointments  and  plasters. 


*1  leave  it  to  defenders  of  the  Faith  to  reconcile  this  abhor¬ 
rence  with  the  persecutions  of  heretics  and  the  tortures  of  the 
Inquisition  permitted  by  the  same  Church. 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON  305 


As  surgery  has  for  the  profession  of  barber  sur¬ 
gery  to  thank  the  existence  upon  man  of  a  beard,  so 
the  European  continent  may  thank  the  Crusaders  of 
the  eleventh  century  for  having  necessitated  the  ex¬ 
istence  of  the  bathkeeper,  because  of  the  leprosy 
which  they  brought  home  from  the  East.  During 
the  Crusades,  as  is  well  known,  there  were  founded 
numerous  Orders  having  for  their  original  purpose 
the  care  and  protection  of  pilgrims  and  injured  sol¬ 
diers.  The  three  most  celebrated  Orders  were  the 
Knights  of  St.  John,  the  Knights  Templar  and  the 
Teutonic  Order.  Were  this  the  place  it  would  be 
most  interesting  to  go  into  a  history  of  these  religio- 
medico-military  Orders,  and  show  how  from  most  de¬ 
vout  purposes  and  humble  origin  they  grew  into  des¬ 
potic  and  tyrannical  associations  of  great  power, 
which  it  finally  took  all  the  force  of  Church  and  State 
to  suppress.  As  the  then  humble  and  enthusiastic 
members  of  these  Orders  returned  from  the  Holy 
Land  they  established  hospitals  for  the  care  of  lepers, 
who  became  very  numerous  in  Europe.  For  instance 
it  is  stated  that  in  France,  in  1225,  there  were  two 
thousand  hospitals  for  this  purpose,  while  the  King 
Louis  the  Great  founded,  in  1260,  a  special  hospital 
for  those  made  blind  by  Egyptian  ophthalmia.  It  is 
well  known  also  that  during  the  middle  ages  there 
was  the  greatest  neglect  of  the  ordinary  canons  of 
cleanliness  both  among  the  upper  and  lower  classes. 
The  number  of  hospitals  and  cloisters  dedicated  to 
the  lepers  being  insufficient,  bath  houses  were  built 


3o 6  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON 


and  bathkeepers  were  engaged  in  order,  so  far  as  pos¬ 
sible,  to  prevent  the  spread  of  leprosy.  At  this  time 
the  bathkeeper  was  permitted  to  bathe  and  cup,  later 
also  to  bleed,  although  the  bleeding  was  required  to 
be  done  in  the  bathkeepers’  own  house,  since  he  was 
not  usually  permitted  to  enter  a  patient’s  house.  As 
bathing  became  less  necessary  for  purposes  already 
mentioned  the  bathkeeper  took  to  imitating  the  bar¬ 
ber,  though  much  later,  and  not  until  about  1750  in 
some  countries,  were  they  permitted  to  do  this  pub¬ 
licly,  and  only  after  having  passed  the  examinations 
to  which  the  barber  was  also  subjected.  In  Prussia 
they  were  only  allowed  to  treat  wounds  and  chronic 
diseases,  and  so  it  came  about  that  by  the  beginning 
of  the  eighteenth  century  a  really  conscientious  and 
efficient  barber  surgeon  was  supposed  to  have  served 
an  apprenticeship  in  large  hospitals,  to  have  wit¬ 
nessed  the  work  of  noted  surgeons  and  to  have  served 
in  the  Army  or  Navy.  He  was  also  supposed  to  be 
something  of  a  linguist  and  to  know  a  little  botany; 
particularly  was  he  expected  to  be  conversant  with 
anatomy,  although  there  was  a  sad  lack  of  cadavers 
— which  was  atoned  for  by  the  use  of  carcasses  of  an¬ 
imals,  for  the  main  part  swine. 

Eckardt,  writing  at  this  time  of  the  sixteen  dif¬ 
ferent  virtues  of  a  barber,  enumerated,  first  of  all, 
fear  of  God;  then  that  he  should  be  careful,  prudent, 
temperate,  and  ready  to  use  both  hands  with  equal 
dexterity;  he  claimed  that  “Arrogance  seems  most 
prevalent  among  barbers,  as  a  common  saying  would 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON  307 

imply  ‘barbers  are  proud  animals.’  ”  He  expressed 
his  surprise  also  at  the  envy  and  malice  between  bath- 
keepers  and  barbers,  and  advised  them  both  to  consult 
physicians  and  other  masters. 

The  customs  of  the  time  must  be  blamed  for  this 
lamentable  condition  of  affairs.  The  boy  who  was 
destined  to  become  a  barber  was  apprenticed  at  a 
time  when  he  had  scarcely  learned  to  write.  If  he 
could  write  legibly  and  read  a  little  Latin  no  one 
dared  refuse  him.  He  learned  to  shave  and  went 
from  house  to  house  for  this  purpose,  spending  the 
little  time  remaining  in  sharpening  knives,  spreading 
plasters,  picking  lint,  taking  care  of  children,  doing 
all  menial  duties,  and  using  the  same  light  as  the 
housemaid  because  it  would  have  been  disrespectful 
to  his  master’s  wife  to  use  any  other.  After 
years  of  this  work  he  was  gradually  taken  to  visit  pa¬ 
tients  and  then  was  taught  how  to  bleed,  cup,  apply 
leeches,  extract  teeth  and  adminster  cylsters.  His 
master  knowing  nothing  of  anatomy  could  give  him 
no  instruction,  though  by  the  laws  of  apprenticeship 
he  was  bound  to  do  so.  Before  concluding  this  ap¬ 
prenticeship  he  was  supposed  to  pass  an  examination, 
which  his  master’s  laziness  usually  permitted  him  to 
escape.  He  then  presented  the  master  with  some  sil¬ 
ver  instruments  and  was  dismissed  with  an  injunc¬ 
tion  to  be  thankful  that  such  a  miserable  specimen  of 
God’s  creatures  had  ever  been  taught  to  shave  a 
beard  or  spread  a  plaster.  He  now  became  a  journey¬ 
man,  still  living  at  the  house  of  his  master,  and  was 


3o8  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON 


not  allowed  to  marry;  after  a  while  he  received  a 
paltry  sum  as  wages,  got  his  dinners  free  and  began 
to  dabble  on  his  own  account.  Study  was  out  of  the 
question ;  these  men  could  not  understand  what  little 
they  did  read  and  served  the  community  mainly  as 
bearers  of  tales.  After  some  years  of  activity  as 
journeyman  they  could  become  masters  by  applying 
to  the  authorities,  presenting  certificates,  and  passing 
an  examination  before  the  physicians  of  the  district. 

Prussia  was  the  first  country  to  appreciate  the  ne¬ 
cessity  of  regulating  medical  practice,  and  the  bar¬ 
bers  and  bathkeepers  were  placed  under  the  control 
of  the  Medical  College  founded,  in  1685,  by  Prince 
Frederick  William.  In  1724  this  institution  attained 
its  greatest  activity,  having  a  subordinate  school  in 
each  province.  In  1725  King  Frederick  William 
issued  a  famous  edict  which  did  much  to  regulate 
medical  affairs  throughout  the  kingdom,  and  directed 
among  other  things  that  barbers  and  bathkeepers 
should  “lead  a  religious,  temperate,  retired  and  sober 
life,  in  order  to  be  at  their  best  whenever  their  ser¬ 
vices  were  required.”  When  their  business  was  not 
sufficiently  good  they  assumed  other  cares,  as,  for  in¬ 
stance,  one  man  was  surgeon,  municipal  judge  and 
post-master  all  at  once.  They  were  extremely  en¬ 
vious  of  each  other  and  often  dabbled  in  medicine 
without  permission.  It  was  not  until  1779  that  the 
bathkeepers  were  permitted  to  rank  in  Prussia  with 
the  barbers,  and  were  allowed  to  use  more  than  four 
basins,  the  bathkeepers’  guild  being  incorporated  with 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON  309 

that  of  the  barber. 

There  being  no  temptation  to  enter  these  ranks  it  is 
not  strange  that  so  late  even  as  1790  good  surgeons 
were  rare  in  Germany;  not  one  in  fifty  of  the  barbers 
really  knowing  the  first  principles  of  the  work  they 
were  supposed  to  perform.  It  came  to  such  a  pass 
that  surgeons  were  compelled  to  shave  and  perform 
other  duties  of  the  hairdresser,  for  no  surgeon,  how¬ 
ever  skilled,  was  allowed  to  practice  as  such,  unless 
he  was  the  proprietor  of  a  head-shaving  and  bathing 
establishment,  with  assistants  and  apprentices,  and  be¬ 
longed  to  the  barbers’  guild,  or  unless  he  was  favored 
by  Royal  exemption.  It  was  the  general  lament  in 
Germany,  all  through  the  18th  century,  that  German 
surgeons  were  educated  in  barber  shops.  Even  by 
the  middle  of  that  century  the  practice  of  surgery 
was  not  considered  an  honorable  business,  and  those 
who  practiced  it  were  not  permitted  to  carry  a  sword, 
neither  was  a  surgeon  admitted  into  society  nor  toler¬ 
ated  among  physicians;  moreover  when  unsuccessful 
he  was  bitterly  and  relentlessly  pursued.  Under  ex¬ 
isting  conditions  the  Reichstag  either  could  or  would 
do  nothing  to  alleviate  the  distressing  condition.  The 
physician  boasted  of  his  education  and  treated  the 
surgeon  and  his  craft  with  disdain,  holding  that  sur¬ 
gery  sustained  the  same  relation  to  medicine  that 
geometry  does  to  higher  mathematics  and  physics. 
All  this  time,  however,  while  the  physician  contented 
himself  with  disdaining  surgeons  he  made  no  at¬ 
tempt  to  elevate  the  craft  nor  to  himself  study  and 


3io  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON 


adorn  it.  Even  by  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  cen¬ 
tury  there  were  scarcely  any  physicians  in  Europe 
who  could  diagnose  a  surgical  case,  while  dentistry 
they  claimed  called  for  no  more  skill  than  that  suf¬ 
ficient  for  tooth  extraction.  It  was  even  claimed 
that  so  long  as  the  people  generally  were  neglectful 
of  their  teeth  the  physician,  or  even  the  surgeon, 
should  be  ashamed  to  concern  himself  with  dentistry. 

Von  Siebold,  in  his  day,  deplored  the  position  of 
the  surgeon;  his  large  military  experience  had  shown 
him  the  difficulties  with  which  he  had  to  contend  be¬ 
fore  he  could  enter  society,  while  his  ambitions  and 
high  motives  were  scorned.  Even  the  peasantry  were 
bitterly  opposed  to  all  operations.  So  intense  were 
their  feelings  that  he  repeatedly  removed  his  pa¬ 
tients  to  other  towns  before  performing  operations. 
Nevertheless  it  was  true  that  there  were  the  best  of 
reasons  for  lack  of  confidence  in  any  barber  who 
dropped  his  razor  for  the  purpose  of  treating  a  frac¬ 
ture,  a  hernia  or  an  obstetric  case.  The  State  re¬ 
quired  a  barber  surgeon  to  call  in  a  physician  in  all 
complicated  surgical  cases.  In  such  a  case  the  phy¬ 
sician  demanded  the  control  of  the  case  and  reserved 
to  himself  the  right  to  judge  of  what  was  required. 
He  would  not  even  consider  a  surgeon  who  had  ob¬ 
tained  the  doctorate  as  his  equal.  Such  consultations 
resulted  in  little  but  quarrels  and  disagreeable  scenes. 
If  a  village  contained  no  physician  the  surgeon  treat¬ 
ed  also  internal  diseases,  though  he  was  not  allowed 
to  use  strong  medicines.  Every  district  had  its 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON  31 1 

special  surgeon  who,  alone,  had  charge  of  several 
villages  where  he  had  the  right  to  keep  journeymen 
and  apprentices  and  to  do  shaving  and  cupping.  In 
the  Prussian  capital  city  only  twenty  German  and 
six  French  surgeons  were  allowed  to  practice  in 
1725,  besides  the  court  and  private  surgeons. 

Until  1808  every  German  surgeon  carried  on  a 
medico-legal  business  which  was  later  separated 
from  his  surgery.  In  1782  there  were  three  classes 
of  surgeons;  from  the  lower  one  might  be  promoted 
to  a  higher  after  an  examination.  In  Austria,  in 
1805,  there  were  doctors  of  surgery  who  were  re¬ 
quired  to  show  a  general  knowledge  of  medicine  and 
who  had  the  same  rights  as  the  physicians;  there  were 
also  medical  surgeons  who  could  practice  under  re¬ 
strictions,  and  bathkeepers  for  minor  surgery.  Af¬ 
ter  the  year  1773  barbers  and  bathkeepers  were  both 
spoken  of  in  Austria  as  surgeons;  this  was  to  break 
up  the  disputes  between  them.  According  to  an  of¬ 
ficial  feebill  holding  good  in  Prussia  in  1815,  the 
highest  fee  that  could  be  charged  for  an  operation 
was  for  lithotomy  in  adults,  the  maximum  limit  being 
about  M.  140  ($35),  while  the  majority  of  opera¬ 
tions  ranged  from  M.  20  to  M.  50  ($5.00  to 

$13.00  expressed  in  U.  S.  money).  Of  course  this 
was  at  a  time  when  the  value  of  money  was  much 
greater  than  now. 

As  already  made  plain,  it  was  the  Church  which 
by  its  decrees  brought  about  the  separation  of  sur¬ 
gery  from  medicine,  a  condition  not  existing  during 


312  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON 


the  palmy  days  of  Greece  and  Rome.  Even  the  Uni¬ 
versity  of  Paris  at  one  time  refused  to  admit  a  student 
who  had  not  foresworn  the  study  of  surgery,  while 
the  denouncement  of  anatomy  and  surgery  alike  was 
promulgated  by  both  papal  bulls  and  clerical  decrees. 
While  many  of  the  physicians  considered  surgery  too 
burdensome  a  study,  and  many  others  had  a  severe 
prejudice  against  it,  the  principal  cause  operating  to 
keep  them  apart  was  probably  the  fact  that  for  sur¬ 
geons  there  was  absolutely  no  social  position.  In 
1774  Mederer  was  made  Professor  of  Surgery  in 
Freiburg,  in  Breisgau;  he  delivered  his  opening  ad¬ 
dress  on  the  wisdom  and  necessity  of  combining  medi¬ 
cine  and  surgery.  As  a  result  he  was  persecuted  by 
the  public,  insulted  by  students,  abused  by  surgeons 
and  constantly  threatened  with  personal  assault.  He 
maintained  his  position,  however,  and  fought  against 
the  prejudice.  Twenty-  two  years  later,  when  he  left 
Freiburg,  he  referred  in  his  last  lecture  to  his  early 
experience.  By  this  time  public  opinion  had  been  so 
changed  that  the  students  serenaded  him  and  humbly 
apologized  for  what  their  predecessors  had  done. 
Mederer  could  then  see  the  success  of  his  efforts  in 
that  the  constitution  of  France  contained  a  clause 
combining  medicine  and  surgery,  and  the  Royal  San¬ 
itary  Commissioners  of  Vienna  had  unanimously  re¬ 
solved  in  favor  of  such  union. 

The  movement  begun  by  Mederer  was  continued 
by  men  like  Richter,  Von  Siebold,  Loder  and  others. 
In  1797,  or  over  a  hundred  years  ago,  the  Electoral 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  SURGEON  313 

Academy  of  Erfurt  offered  a  prize  for  the  best  essay 
on  the  subject  “Is  it  necessary  and  possible  to  com¬ 
bine  medicine  and  surgery  theoretically  as  well  as 
practically?”  Fourteen  papers  were  submitted,  of 
which  twelve  were  in  favor  of  union.  Nevertheless 
the  Academy  awarded  the  prize  to  the  only  writer 
who  had  opposed  such  union.  His  reasons  for  such 
opposition  were  most  puerile,  as  were  all  the  argu¬ 
ments  subsequently  advanced  against  it.  Nevertheless 
a  great  step  was  taken  in  advance,  when  the  guilds 
and  fraternities  of  barbers  and  bathkeepers  were  abol¬ 
ished,  in  which  good  work  Vienna,  in  1783,  took  the 
lead.  It  was  then  declared  that  shaving  was  the 
business  of  the  hair-dresser,  and  that  barber  surgeons 
must  attend  lectures  in  surgery  and  anatomy.  Ba¬ 
varia  followed  in  1804,  and  four  years  later,  in  Prus¬ 
sia,  no  one  was  permitted  to  practice  surgery  without 
having  studied  medicine.  The  rules  of  1786  regu¬ 
lating  the  respective  positions  and  duties  between 
physicians  and  surgeons  were  annulled  in  1808,  and 
by  1 8 1 1  the  barber  license  was  no  longer  essential 
for  the  practice  of  surgery,  the  privileges  of  the  bar¬ 
ber,  as  such,  being  abolished,  while  for  his  trade  only 
a  common  license  was  needed. 


XII 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE 

CIRCULATION 

A  Study  of  the  Times  and  Labors  of  William 

Harvey* 

ISTORY  in  general  is  but  a  record  of  the 
succession  of  great  events  or  epochs  which 
have  moulded  the  world’s  affairs.  That 
which  is  of  the  greatest  import  in  the 
life  of  the  individual  may  count  for  little  in  the  lives 
of  his  contemporaries,  and  yet  it  must  be  said  that  in 
the  events  of  to-day  there  has  occurred  a  great  epoch 
in  the  life  of  each  of  you,  presumably  the  most  im¬ 
portant  as  yet  in  your  personal  records.  This  day  is 
then  in  your  personal  histories  one  of  the  greatest 
importance.  It  is  desirable,  therefore,  that  your  lives 
be  so  moulded  and  influenced  by  it  that  you  may  long 
hence  look  back  to  it  and  recall  its  significance. 

I  do  not  know  what  advice  I  can  give  you  which 
will  be  more  fruitful  of  results,  than  that  among 
your  studies  you  include  that  of  the  lives  of  the  great 
men  who  have  moulded  destiny  and  made  the  world’s 
history.  Their  lives  were  modified  by  little  things, 
as  have  been  and  will  be  yours,  and  yet  out  of  small 


*Address  delivered  at  the  Annual  Commencement  of  the 
Medical  Department  of  the  University  of  Chicago,  (Rush  Medi¬ 
cal  College),  June  13,  1906. 

3I4 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  315 


matters  grew  for  them  and  for  us  some  of  the  most 
far  reaching  effects.  Select  the  really  great  men 
of  whom  you  best  happen  to  know  and  analyze  their 
characters  that  you  may  appreciate  how  they  have 
become  great;  while  if  they  have,  as  all  great  men 
have,  traits  of  smallness,  study  even  wherein  they  are 
small,  and  how  such  faults  may  be  avoided. 

History  runs  as  does  a  fairly  steady  stream,  save 
that  every  now  and  then  some  event  abruptly  diverts 
its  course  or  influences  its  current.  It  has  been  so, 
for  instance,  with  the  history  of  medicine.  For  the 
first  sixteen  hundred  years  of  the  Christian  era  men 
engaged  in  the  crude  practices  of  our  profession,  ut¬ 
terly  ignorant  of  the  course  of  the  blood,  as  well  as 
of  its  purposes.  Then  appeared  upon  the  scene  a 
man  who  did  his  own  thinking,  who  was  willing  to 
free  himself  from  the  shackles  of  the  past,  to  observe 
nature  and  to  reason  therefrom.  In  this  way  came 
suddenly  upon  the  world,  as  it  were,  an  appreciation 
of  the  Circulation  of  the  Blood,  than  which  perhaps 
no  event  in  medical  history  has  been  of  greater  im¬ 
portance  or  reflected  more  credit  upon  its  demon¬ 
strator. 

It  is  my  purpose,  then,  to-day  to  try  to  tell  you, 
in  a  semipopular  way,  how  William  Harvey  came  to 
make  this  great  discovery,  as  well  as  to  give  you 
some  idea  of  the  difficulties  under  which  he  worked, 
and  of  the  men  and  influences  that  surrounded  him, 
believing  that  rather  than  spend  a  half  hour  in  hu¬ 
morous  platitudes  which  may  provoke  a  smile,  but 


3i 6  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


which  are  quickly  forgotten,  it  is  much  better  to  try 
to  implant  something  which  may  linger  a  while  in 
your  memories,  and  sufficiently  impress  you  with  the 
value  of  observation  and  inductive  reasoning,  since 
if  you  become  thus  fully  impressed  you  will  be  spared 
in  the  future  many  sad  errors  of  speech  and  even  of 
thought. 

Before  telling  the  story  of  Harvey’s  life  and  work 
let  us  study  for  a  few  moments  the  general  condition 
of  affairs  in  Europe,  in  order  that  we  may  better 
understand  the  men  whose  influence  surrounded  him, 
as  well  as  the  spirit  of  the  times  and  men’s  habits 
of  thought. 

Among  the  monarchs  reigning  in  various  parts  of 
Europe  during  Harvey’s  time  there  were,  for  in¬ 
stance,  in  that  part  of  the  Empire  of  the  West  which 
was  called  Germany,  Rudolph  II,  Matthias  and  Fer¬ 
dinand.  In  Sweden  reigned  King  Sigismund,  Charles 
IX,  the  great  monarch  Gustavus  Adolphus,  and 
Queen  Christine.  In  Prussia  the  throne  had  been  oc¬ 
cupied  by  Joachim,  George  William  and  Frederick 
William,  as  electors,  this  being  before  the  days  of  the 
Prussian  kings.  In  Russia  the  Czars  Boris  Godunow, 
Michael  Theodore  and  Alexis  had  occupied  the 
throne. 

France  had  but  recently  passed  through  the  inhu¬ 
man  butchery  of  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew 
and  its  accompanying  persecution  of  the  Huguenots, 
under  Charles  IX,  who  expressed  the  hope  that  not  a 
single  Huguenot  would  be  left  alive  to  reproach  him 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  317 


with  the  deed,  but  who  died  himself  soon  after  the 
massacre,  which  is  said  to  have  caused  him  bitter  re¬ 
morse.  Charles  had  been  succeeded  by  his  brother 
Henry  III,  a  weak,  fickle  and  vicious  monarch,  whose 
weakness  caused  him  to  be  embroiled  in  civil  strife, 
which  was  only  concluded  by  his  own  assassination 
at  the  hands  of  a  Dominican  friar.  Then  came  Hen¬ 
ry  IV,  he  of  Navarre,  afterwards  surnamed  The 
Great,  who  fought  the  famous  battle  of  Ivry  in  1590, 
and  who  reigned  for  twenty-one  years,  the  greatest 
and  most  popular  sovereign  who  ever  occupied  the 
throne  of  France.  Notwithstanding  his  noble  quali¬ 
ties  he  did  not  succeed  in  preserving  his  court  from 
many  of  the  contaminations  of  the  age,  and  in  his 
reign  it  is  said  that  no  less  than  4,000  French  gentle¬ 
men  were  killed  in  duels,  chiefly  arising  out  of  quar¬ 
rels  about  women.  He  was  succeeded  by  Louis  XIII, 
who  was  still  on  the  throne  when  Harvey  died. 

In  Harvey’s  own  country  James  I  was  occupying 
the  throne  when  Harvey  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
He  was  that  royal  pedant  whom  the  Duke  of  Sully 
pronounced  “the  wisest  fool  in  Europe.”  After  his 
death,  and  when  Charles  I  ascended  the  throne  dur¬ 
ing  his  twenty-fifth  year,  in  1625,  Harvey  was  pre¬ 
paring  to  publish  his  great  work.  It  was  this  Charles 
I  who  retained  as  a  favorite  the  worthless  scoundrel 
Buckingham,  whose  misconduct  in  Spain  prevented 
the  proposed  marriage  of  the  king  with  the  Spanish 
Infanta  and  brought  about  the  Civil  War.  It  was 
because  of  the  cost  of  this  war,  and  of  the  king’s 


3i8  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


disputes  with  Parliament  regarding  the  matter,  that 
England  was  rent  between  the  conflicts  of  the  Cav¬ 
aliers  and  the  Roundheads,  two  of  the  consequences 
of  this  intestine  strife  being  the  execution  of  the  Earl 
of  Strafford  and  of  Archbishop  Laud.  The  troubles 
thus  engendered  finally  cost  the  life  of  the  king  him¬ 
self,  who  was  beheaded  in  1649.  Harvey  even  lived 
to  see  the  first  half  of  the  short  tenure  of  office  of 
Cromwell  as  the  Great  Protector,  and  was  perhaps 
fortunate  in  dying  before  began  the  reign  of  that 
odious  profligate  Charles  II. 

It  is  worth  while  to  enquire  for  a  moment  what 
was  doing  on  this  side  of  the  ocean  at  this  period 
which  we  have  now  under  consideration.  In  1607 
Virginia  was  settled  by  the  English,  in  1614  New 
York,  by  the  Dutch,  in  1620  Massachusetts  and, 
three  years  later,  New  Hampshire,  by  the  English 
Puritans;  in  1624  New  Jersey,  by  the  Dutch,  in  1627 
Delaware  by  Swedes  and  Finns,  in  1630  Maine,  by 
the  English,  in  1634  Maryland,  by  Irish  Catholics, 
in  1635  Connecticut,  by  English  Puritans.  Thus  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  active  period  of  Harvey’s  life 
was  synchronous  with  the  beginnings  of  our  colonial 
activities.  Very  little  knowledge  of  what  was  going 
on  in  the  then  world  of  science  was  brought  to  this 
country  at  this  period  of  its  existence,  however,  and 
it  was  many  years  before  in  these  colonies  there  were 
any  exhibitions  of  scientific  interest  save  in  extremely 
scattered  and  sporadic  cases. 

Among  Harvey’s  literary  associates  were  a  number 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  319 


of  celebrated  English  poets,  for  example, — Marlowe 
( 1 593 )  5  Spenser  (1598),  Beaumont  (1615),  Shake¬ 
speare  (1615),  Herbert  (1635),  Ben  Jonson 
(1637),  Massinger  (1639).  Lord  Bacon  died  a 
year  or  two  after  the  appearance  of  Harvey’s  book, 
while  Baron  Napier,  the  inventor  of  logarithms,  had 
passed  away.  His  contemporaries  in  Italy,  where  he 
had  studied,  included  Tasso  (1595)  and  Galileo 
(1645).  Rubens  had  died  in  1640,  Michael  Angelo 
in  1564  and  Titian  in  1576.  In  France,  Calvin,  the 
practical  murderer  of  Servetus,  had  passed  away  in 
1564,  Beza  died  in  1605,  Descartes  in  1650,  Pascal 
in  1662  and  Gassendi  in  1655.  Portugal  had  pro¬ 
duced  but  one  great  figure  in  the  16th  century,  namely 
Camoens,  who  died  in  1579.  In  Spain,  Loyola,  the 
ascetic  and  fanatic  founder  of  the  Jesuits,  had  joined 
the  great  majority  in  1556;  but  Cervantes  did  not 
die  until  1616,  Lope  de  Vega  in  1635,  Velasquez  in 
1660  and  Calderon  in  1667. 

In  Germany  some  great  figures  had  but  recently 
disappeared.  Paracelsus  died  in  154-1,  Copernicus 
in  1543,  Luther  in  1546,  Hans  Holbein  in  1554,  and 
Melancthon  in  1560.  Mercator,  who  introduced  a 
new  method  of  cartography,  died  in  1594,  Tycho 
Brahe  in  1601,  Keppler  in  1631,  Van  Dyck  in  1641, 
Grotius,  the  great  scholar,  in  1645,  Rembrandt  in 
1668  and  Spinoza  in  1677. 

In  philosophy,  scepticism  was  the  prevailing  doc¬ 
trine  in  the  time  of  Harvey.  It  had  been  founded  a 
hundred  years  previously  by  Montaigne,  and  continued 


320  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 

by  Charron,  the  chaplain  of  Queen  Margaret  of 
Navarre,  who  died  in  1603,  and  who  declared  all 
religion  to  be  opposed  to  human  reason; — a  remark¬ 
able  attitude  for  a  chaplain  to  assume.  Opposed  to 
the  scepticism  of  Harvey’s  day  was  the  mystic,  Cab¬ 
alistic  or  supernatural  philosophy  especially  repre¬ 
sented  by  Bohme,  a  peasant  shoemaker,  uneducated 
and  yet  wonderfully  gifted.  He  had  been  the  philo¬ 
sophical  colleague  of  that  great  Meistersinger,  Hans 
Sachs.  Later  philosophers  and  thinkers,  yet  belong¬ 
ing  to  Harvey’s  time,  were  Pascal,  the  great  Jansenist, 
who  discovered  the  variations  of  atmospheric  pres¬ 
sure  at  different  levels,  and  Malebranche,  who  figures 
prominently  in  the  history  of  philosophy. 

Descartes,  who  died  in  1650,  held  the  pineal  gland 
to  be  the  seat  of  the  soul.  He  was  the  discoverer  of 
the  laws  of  refraction  of  light  and  furnished  the  ex¬ 
planation  for  the  rainbow.  He  attained  greatest  em¬ 
inence  in  mathematics,  physics  and  philosophy,  and 
was  one  of  the  inventors  of  modern  algebra.  One 
of  his  greatest  opponents  was  that  noble  Jew,  Spi¬ 
noza,  whose  colleagues  had  expelled  him  from  the 
Sanhedrim  to  the  sound  of  the  trombone. 

The  Italian  Dominican  Campanella,  who  died  in 
1639,  considered  the  foundation  of  knowledge  to  be 
supernatural  revelation  and  its  perception  by  the 
senses.  In  spite  of  these  views  he  came  before  The 
Inquisition  on  a  charge  of  heresy  and  of  cooperation 
with  the  Turks,  was  tortured  by  the  rack,  and  im¬ 
prisoned  for  thirty  years. 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  321 


The  mystic  or  Cabalistic  notions  of  Harvey’s  day 
have  just  been  mentioned.  Under  them  we  may 
recognize  many  degenerate  products  and  amalgama¬ 
tions  of  the  real  doctrines  of  Paracelsus.  The  doc¬ 
trines  of  the  Rosicrucians,  as  well  as  of  Zoroaster  and 
the  Cabala,  were  revived  and  made  to  do  strange 
work.  There  was,  for  instance,  that  Sir  Kenelm 
Digby,  who  died  in  1605,  a  King’s  chamberlain,  who 
posed  among  the  English  as  a  so-called  Rosicrucian. 
It  was  he  who  suggested  the  famous  “sympathetic 
powder  ”  which  was  to  be  applied  to  the  weapon  by 
which  a  wound  had  been  inflicted,  after  which  the 
weapon  was  anointed  and  dressed  two  or  three  times 
a  day,  while  the  wound  itself  was  carefully  bound  up 
with  dressings  and  left  alone  for  a  week.  This  was 
perhaps  much  the  better  course,  but  it  will  show  what 
strange  notions  prevailed  in  those  days. 

What  it  meant  to  run  counter  to  ecclesiastical  policy 
and  theological  dogma  appears  not  only  in  such  trag¬ 
edies  as  terminated  the  lives  of  Bruno  and  many  oth¬ 
er  martyrs  to  science,  but  in  such  facts  as  these;  for 
instance,  when  in  1624,  just  when  Harvey  was  pre¬ 
paring  to  publish  his  work,  some  young  chemists  in 
Paris,  seeing  the  benefit  of  the  experimental  method, 
broke  away  from  Aristotle  and  the  canons  of  theo¬ 
logical  reasoning,  the  faculty  of  theology  appealed  to 
the  Parliament  of  Paris,  which  latter  prohibited  all 
such  researches,  under  the  severest  penalties. 

This  was  the  time  too  when  such  exhibitions  as 
the  following  were  altogether  too  frequent; — One 


322  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


Quaresimo,  of  Lodi,  came  out  with  a  pondrous  work 
entitled  “A  Historical,  Theological  and  Moral  Ex¬ 
planation  of  the  Holy  Land,”  in  which  he  devoted 
great  space  to  the  question  of  The  Dead  Sea  and  the 
salt  pillar  supposed  to  represent  Lot’s  wife,  dividing 
a  long  chapter  upon  the  subject  into  three  parts,  deal¬ 
ing  with  the  method  and  the  locality  of  this  transfor¬ 
mation  and  the  question  of  the  existence  at  that  time 
of  her  saline  remains.  Thus,  with  his  peculiar  pow¬ 
ers  of  reasoning,  he  was  able  to  decide  the  exact  point 
where  the  saline  change  took  place,  and  finally  showed 
that  the  statue  was  still  in  existence . 

Lord  Bacon  was  also  an  older  contemporary  of 
Harvey,  having  been  born  in  1561  and  dying  in  1626, 
shortly  after  the  appearance  of  Harvey’s  great  work. 
His  services  to  analytic  science  need  no  description 
here,  but  it  is  worth  while  to  remember  that  Harvey, 
like  many  others,  must  have  come  under  his  influence 
and  have  profited  by  his  teachings  in  logic  and  an¬ 
alysis.  1 

At  about  the  time  when  Harvey  made  known  his 
discovery  Bacon  was  publishing  his  views  of  the  laws 
of  transmission  and  reflection  of  sound.  Great  man 
as  he  was,  with  a  keen  foresight  into  the  value  of  the 
recent  inventions  of  the  compass,  gun-powder  and 
printing,  he  nevertheless  was  himself  so  narrow,  in 
some  respects,  that  he  placed  but  little  value- upon  the 
discovery  of  Copernicus.  He,  however,  paved  the 
way  for  one  in  some  respects  still  greater,  namely 
Isaac  Newton,  who,  however,  had  scarcely  attained 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  323 

man’s  stature  when  Harvey  died. 

How  much  we  owe  to  the  two  great  Bacons  of 
history  one  cannot  indicate  in  this  short  resume.  Ro¬ 
ger  Bacon  (1214- 129 2)  seems  to  have  been  the  first 
great  thinker  along  truly  scientific  lines.  He  was 
more  than  a  mere  chemist  while,  as  White  says,  more 
than  three  centuries  before  Francis  Bacon  advocated 
the  experimental  method  Roger  Bacon  had  practised 
it,  and  in  many  directions.  He  did  more  than  any¬ 
one  else  in  the  middle  ages  to  direct  thought  into 
fruitful  paths,  and  only  now  are  we  finding  out  how 
nearly  he  reached  some  of  the  principal  doctrines  of 
modern  philosophy  and  chemistry.  Most  important 
of  all,  his  methods  were  even  greater  than  his  results, 
and  this  at  a  time  when  “theological  subtilizing”  was 
the  only  passport  to  reputation  for  scholarship. 

It  was  Avicenna,  the  Arabian,  who  perhaps  first 
announced  substantially  the  modern  theory  of  geol¬ 
ogy,  accounting  for  changes  in  the  earth’s  surface 
by  suggesting  a  stone-making  force,  but  the  presence 
of  fossils  in  the  rocks  had  been  always  a  thorn  in  the 
sides  of  the  theologians.  It  was  Leonardo  da  Vinci, 
that  versatile  genius  in  science  and  art,  wTho,  previous 
to  Harvey’s  generation,  suggested  true  notions  as  to 
the  origin  of  fossils,  while,  in  Harvey’s  time,  Ber¬ 
nard  Palissy,  another  artist,  vehemently  contended 
for  their  correctness.  Still,  even  at  Harvey’s  death, 
neither  geology  nor  paleontology  had  come  anywhere 
near  scientific  accuracy. 

The  Academia  dei  Lyncei,  so-called  from  its  seal, 


324  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


which  bore  the  image  of  a  fox,  was  founded  in  Rome 
in  1603.  In  France  The  Academy  of  Science  was  not 
founded  until  1665,  in  Germany  The  Society  of  Nat¬ 
uralists  and  Physicians  in  1652,  and  the  British  Roy¬ 
al  Society  in  1665. 

In  matters  of  general  interest  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  say  that  in  architecture  the  general  style  of  The 
Renaissance  was  changed  for  the  more  substantial 
Barocco,  while  the  more  formal  and  limited  style  of 
church  music  had  given  away  to  musical  drama,  i.  e., 
opera,  albeit  in  very  crude  form.  The  first  news¬ 
paper  had  appeared  at  Antwerp  in  1605,  the  first 
German  paper  being  published  in  Frankfort  in  1615, 
and  The  London  Weekly  News  making  its  first  ap¬ 
pearance  in  1620.  Tobacco,  which  had  been  brought 
over  by  Raleigh  in  1 560,  had  come  into  quite  general 
use,  while  coffee,  tea  and  chocolate  had  gained  in 
public  esteem.  When  coffee  was  first  introduced  in 
England  it  sold  for  about  $28  a  pound.  The  first 
coffee  house  appears  to  have  been  established  in  Con¬ 
stantinople,  in  the  middle  of  the  16th  century,  while 
the  first  coffee  house  in  London  was  not  opened  until 
a  century  later. 

The  barbers  still  retained  their  ascendency,  and 
the  bath  keepers  had  scarcely  lost  their  position  next 
to  the  barbers.  It  was  not  until  Harvey  had  reached 
a  ripe  age  that  the  barbers  were  required  in  Germany 
to  pass  an  examination,  in  which  they  had  to  prove 
not  only  their  knowledge  but  the  legitimacy  of  their 
birth,  and  the  fact  that  they  had  studied  for  three 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  325 


years  and  had  worked  for  three  years  more  as  ap¬ 
prentices. 

Anatomy  was  studied  quite  generally,  sometimes 
upon  human  bodies.  A  dissecting  room  had  been 
established  in  Dresden  in  1617,  in  which  stuffed 
bears,  at  that  time  a  great  rarity,  were  preserved  with 
other  curiosities.  In  1623  Rolfink,  at  Jena,  arranged 
for  public  dissection  upon  the  bodies  of  all  executed 
malefactors,  delegates  being  present  thereat  from 
various  other  institutions.  It  is  worth  while  to  men¬ 
tion  that  in  Frankfort,  for  instance,  during  the  expir¬ 
ation  of  65  years,  but  seven  dissections  were  made, 
and  that  these  were  always  accompanied  by  a  celebra¬ 
tion  which  lasted  several  days.  Vienna  did  not  pos¬ 
sess  a  skeleton  in  1668,  and  Strassburg  did  not  have 
one  until  1671.  Yet  it  is  of  interest  to  remember 
that  the  anatomical  plates,  like  those  often  published 
to-day,  which  are  meant  to  be  lifted  off  in  layers,  ex¬ 
isted  even  at  this  period.  On  the  other  hand,  bo¬ 
tanical  gardens  and  chemical  laboratories  existed  in 
several  of  the  universities, — in  Strassburg,  for  in¬ 
stance,  in  1619, — in  Oxford  in  1622. 

Fabricius  Hildanus,  the  father  of  German  surgery, 
or,  as  he  has  been  sometimes  called,  the  Ambroise 
Pare,  of  Germany,  was  also  a  contemporary  of  Har¬ 
vey’s.  His  real  name  was  Fabry  and  he  was  born  in 
Hilden,  but  he  latinized  his  name  into  that  form  us¬ 
ually  adopted  to-day. 

Scultetus  was  another  famous  surgeon  of  the  same 
period. 


326  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


William  Gilbert,  1 540-1603,  had  been  the  talented 
physician  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  was  among  the 
first  to  study  the  experimental  method.  With  the 
appearance  of  his  book  upon  the  magnet,  in  1600, 
began  the  science  of  electricity  and  magnetism.  He 
was  the  first  to  teach  the  fact  that  the  earth  itself  was 
a  great  magnet  and  he  distinguished  between  mag¬ 
netic  and  electric  reactions.  Later  the  great 
Dutch  anatomist,  Ruysch,  afforded  corrobora¬ 
tion  of  Harvey’s  views  by  another  method,  when 
he  invented  and  practised  those  beautiful  minute  in¬ 
jections  of  the  vascular  system  which  made  him  so 
famous,  and  built  up  that  great  collection  of 
specimens  which  Peter  the  Great  bought  for  Rus¬ 
sia  at  an  expense  of  about  $75,000. 

Contemporary  with  Harvey  also  was  Swammer¬ 
dam,  one  of  the  most  versatile  men  of  his  time,  fa¬ 
mous  as  naturalist,  savant,  physiologist,  linguist  and 
poet.  It  was  during  the  fifteenth  century  that  as¬ 
tronomy  began  to  assume  an  importance  and  degree 
of  accuracy  never  hitherto  known.  This  was  due 
very  largely  to  the  independence  of  thought  and  the 
researches  of  Copernicus,  who  was  born  in  Cremona 
in  1477,  and  who  studied  medicine  in  Krakau  and  as¬ 
tronomy  in  Vienna.  He  lived  to  the  age  of  70  and 
was  the  real  father  of  the  heliocentric  theory,  now 
known  as  the  Copernician  system,  which  he  substi¬ 
tuted  for  the  previous  Ptolemaic  theory,  thus  revers¬ 
ing  the  ancient  idea  that  the  sun  circled  about  the 
earth.  Copernicus  demonstrated  the  phases  of  the 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  327 


moon,  but  his  opponents  claimed  that  if  this  doctrine 
were  true  Venus  would  exhibit  the  same  phenomena; 
to  which  he  replied  that  it  was  true,  though  he  knew 
not  what  to  say  to  these  objections,  but  that  God  was 
good  and  would  in  time  furnish  answer  to  them.  It 
was  Galileo’s  crude  telescope  which,  in  Harvey’s 
younger  day,  in  1611,  furnished  this  answer  and  re¬ 
vealed  the  phases  of  Venus.  To  illustrate  how  the 
views  of  Copernicus  were  received  we  might  add  here 
that  Martin  Luther  paid  his  compliments  to  him  by 
declaring  that  Copernicus  was  a  fool  who  wished  to 
stand  astronomy  upon  its  head. 

Copernicus  was  succeeded  by  Galileo,  who  was 
born  in  1554  in  Pisa,  and  died  1642.  He  may  be 
called  the  creator  of  dynamic  astronomy  and  mechan¬ 
ics,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  brilliant  exponents  of 
experimental  and  inductive  reasoning.  He  was  of  no¬ 
ble  birth  and  was,  in  fact,  the  torch  bearer  of  physics 
at  the  period  of  The  Renaissance.  He  gave  up  specu¬ 
lation  and  substituted  for  it  the  habit  of  observation, 
reaping  a  large  harvest  of  surprising  facts,  any  one 
of  which  might  have  immortalized  him.  He  not  only 
established  the  movements  of  the  earth  on  its  own 
axis  as  well  as  around  the  sun,  which  Copernicus  had 
shown,  but  he  discovered  the  weight  of  the  atmos¬ 
phere  and  first  calculated  the  law  of  gravity.  He  and 
his  successors  were  governed  always  by  that  aphor¬ 
ism  which  is  to-day  as  true  as  ever:  “Experience  is 
deceptive  and  judgment  difficult.” 

In  1615  when  he  was  before  The  Inquisition,  at 


328  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


Rome,  and  when  its  theologians  had  examined  state¬ 
ments  extracted  from  his  letters,  they  solemnly  ren¬ 
dered  their  decision  in  these  words :  “The  first  propo¬ 
sition  that  the  sun  is  the  centre  and  does  not  revolve 
about  the  earth  is  foolish,  absurd,  false  in  theology 
and  heretical,  because  expressly  contrary  to  The  Holy 
Scripture.  The  second  proposition  that  the  earth  is 
not  the  centre,  but  revolves  about  the  sun,  is  absurd, 
false  in  philosophy  and,  from  a  theological  point  of 
view,  at  least,  opposed  to  the  true  faith.”  This  for 
a  pronunciamento  from  the  infallible  Church ! 

Galileo  and  Bruno  have  by  some  writers  both  been 
made  to  stand  in  an  unpleasant  light  because  of  their 
recantation  or  shifting  position  before  The  Inquisi¬ 
tion.  Bruno  was  the  greatest  philosopher  and  sceptic 
of  the  latter  part  of  the  16th  century,  and  had  out¬ 
lined,  withal  somewhat  vaguely,  that  which  is  now 
known  as  the  nebular  hypothesis.  He  was  murdered 
by  The  Inquisition  in  1600,  and  the  views  which  he 
enunciated  seem  to  have  been  buried  with  him,  not 
to  reappear  until  long  after  his  sad  fate  had  been  con¬ 
summated.  He  had,  for  instance,  contended  for  the 
truths  of  the  Copernican  doctrine,  but  it  was  not  un¬ 
til  ten  years  after  his  martyrdom  that  Galileo  proved 
it  with  his  telescope.  That  both  these  great  men 
yielded  in  some  respects  to  the  influences  of  The  In¬ 
quisition  and  renounced  some  of  their  scientific  “her¬ 
esies”  is  largely  to  be  excused  by  the  fact  that  they  were 
both  old,  broken  in  health  from  the  sufferings  which 
they  had  endured,  as  well  as  from  their  disappoint- 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  329 


ments,  and  that  they  had  been,  under  these  circum¬ 
stances,  handed  over  to  that  Inquisition  which  knew 
no  mercy.  Galileo  could  well  remember  the  auto 
da  fe  in  the  Piazza  dei  Fiore,  in  Rome,  the  scene  of 
Bruno’s  martyrdom,  as  well  as  the  tragic  end  of  many 
another  who  had  dared  to  have  the  courage  of  his 
convictions.  Let  us,  then,  not  judge  him  harshly,  but 
be  grateful  even  that  the  enormous  power  of  The  In¬ 
quisition  did  not  and  could  not  suppress  the  truth. 

Galileo’s  discovery  of  the  satellites  of  Jupiter,  the 
rings  of  Saturn,  his  experiments  with  the  pendulum, 
his  construction  of  the  telescope,  as  well  as  of  the 
thermometer,  and  many  other  deeds,  have  stamped 
him  as  one  of  the  great  figures  in  the  history  of  pro¬ 
gress  and  science.  It  is  most  interesting  to  note  that 
this  contemporary  of  Harvey’s,  like  himself,  was  giv¬ 
en  to  inductions  obtained  from  experimental  studies. 
Another  great  astronomical  light  of  Harvey’s  time 
was  Keppler,  who  was  driven  from  one  place  to 
another  by  religious  fanaticism,  until  he  ended  his  life 
in  1630.  It  was  he  who  formulated  the  great  prin¬ 
ciple  which  underlies  the  motions  of  the  planets,  and 
who  gave  to  the  world  his  so-called  “laws,”  which  so 
materially  advanced  the  science  of  astronomy.  It 
was  he  who  really  discovered  that  comet  which  was 
later  given  Halley’s  name,  whose  periodic  return  he 
first  foretold. 

Such  was  the  spirit  of  the  times  in  which  Harvey 
lived,  and  such  the  influences  which  surrounded  his 
teachers  before  him  and  himself  in  turn.  It  makes 


330  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


a  long  preface  to  a  consideration  of  what  Harvey 
himself  accomplished,  but  it  is  not  without  its  interest 
because  men  and  their  deeds  must  be  judged  largely 
by  their  environment.  Now,  to  speak  more  particu¬ 
larly  of  Harvey  himself,  and  what  was  known  of  the 
circulation  when  he  undertook  his  investigations. 

The  liver  had  been  considered,  from  time  immem¬ 
orial,  as  the  principal  factor  in  the  production  and 
movement  of  the  blood.  The  ancients  supposed  that 
here  the  veins  took  their  origin  and  that  through 
them  the  blood  flowed  to  all  parts  of  the  body,  re¬ 
turning  to  its  source  by  an  undulating  movement  or 
series  of  alternate  waves.  The  arteries  had  been  sup¬ 
posed  to  contain  only  vital  spirits,  whose  great  reser¬ 
voir  was  the  heart,  although  Erasistratus  had  admit¬ 
ted  that  in  certain  cases  blood  might  escape  into  the 
arterial  channels.  Later  Galen  showed  that  the  ar¬ 
teries  always  contained  blood,  and  he  knew  that  blood 
was  poured  into  the  right  side  of  the  heart  by  the 
great  veins,  but  believed  that  only  a  little  of  it  passed 
from  the  right  ventricle  into  the  lungs,  the  greater 
part  of  it  passing  through  hypothetical  pores  in  the 
septum  and  thus  into  the  left  ventricle.  This  opinion, 
like  Galen’s  in  other  respects,  remained  unchanged 
until  the  middle  of  the  16th  century.  It  was  also 
known  that  valves  existed  within  the  veins,  and  that 
if  an  artery  were  tied  on  a  living  animal  blood  would 
cease  to  flow  and  pulsation  be  checked  below  the  liga¬ 
ture,  while  if  a  vein  were  tied  it  shrunk  above  the 
ligature  and  became  distended  below. 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  331 


Three  men  before  Harvey’s  time  came  very  near 
to  discovering  the  secret  that  made  him  famous;  in 
fact,  they  made  such  advances  on  what  was  already 
known  that  history  should  accord  them  a  dis¬ 
tinguished  place.  One  was  Columbus,  who  was  born 
at  Cremona  in  1490,  and  died  in  1559.  He  was  first 
a  pupil  and  prosector  and  then  a  friend  of  Vesalius, 
the  great  anatomist.  Later  he  succeeded  him  at  The 
University  of  Padua  and  unfortunately,  after  gaining 
his  position,  ungratefully  turned  upon  his  old  teach¬ 
er.  He  was,  however,  for  his  day  a  good  anatomist 
and  especially  a  good  osteologist.  It  was  he  who 
first  demonstrated  experimentally  that  blood  passes 
through  the  lungs  into  the  pulmonary  veins  and  that 
the  latter  connect  with  the  left  ventricle.  He  thus 
practically  established  the  fact  of  the  lesser  circula¬ 
tion.  He  suffered,  however,  as  did  Servetus,  from 
the  prevailing  notion  that  spirits  and  blood  were 
mixed  together.  From  Padua  Columbus  went  to 
Pisa,  and  then  to  Rome.  He  wrote  with  elegance 
and  correctness  of  style  and  even  described  the  vessels 
which  penetrate  the  bone  cells,  the  ossicles  of  the  ear, 
the  minute  anatomy  of  the  teeth,  the  ventricles  of  the 
larynx,  as  well  as  those  valves  which  prevent  the  re¬ 
turn  of  blood  from  the  lungs  to  the  heart.  In  fact, 
he  narrowly  missed  the  significance  of  the  actual  facts 
of  the  case,  simply  failing  in  his  final  analysis  and  as¬ 
sembling  of  those  facts  which  he  had  already  demon¬ 
strated. 

Cesalpinus,  who  lived  a  little  later,  came  still  near- 


332  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


er  the  mark,  having  accepted  the  teachings  of  Colum¬ 
bus  regarding  the  course  of  the  blood  through  the 
lungs.  He  added  that  the  ultimate  arterial  branches 
connect  with  those  of  the  veins,  and  he  taught  that 
blood  and  vital  spirits,  from  which  the  ancients  could 
never  separate  themselves,  passed  from  the  arteries 
into  the  veins  during  sleep,  as  was  demonstrated  by 
the  swelling  of  the  veins  and  the  diminution  of  the 
pulse  at  that  time. 

A  little  later  came  Michael  Servetus,  who  figures 
principally  in  history  as  a  theologian  and  a  victim  of 
theologians,  since  he  perished  a  martyr  to  Calvin’s 
jealousy.  He  was,  in  effect,  a  wisely  and  widely  edu¬ 
cated  man  who  did  a  great  deal  for  science,  one  of 
the  offences  attributed  to  him  being  an  edition  of 
Ptolemy’s  geography,  in  which  Judea  was  described 
as  a  barren  and  inhospitable  land  instead  of  one 
“flowing  with  milk  and  honey.”  This  simple  state¬ 
ment  of  a  geographical  fact  was  made  a  tremendous 
weapon  of  offence  by  Calvin,  who  replied  that  even  if 
Servetus  had  only  quoted  from  Ptolemy  and,  although 
there  were  ample  geographical  proofs,  it  nevertheless 
“unnecessarily  inculpated  Moses  and  grievously  out¬ 
raged  The  Holy  Ghost.”  Servetus  dared  to  deny  the 
passage  of  the  blood  through  the  septum  of  the  heart, 
and  contended  that  that  which  comes  into  the  right 
side  was  distributed  to  the  lung  and  returned  to  the 
left  ventricle.  He  published  his  views,  however,  in 
a  religious  treatise  on  Errors  concerning  The  Trinity, 
a  most  unfortunate  place  in  which  to  inject  such  an 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  333 


important  fact,  since  it  gave  his  enemies  a  still  great¬ 
er  opportunity  to  vent  and  ventilate  their  spleen.  Had 
he  been  able  to  leave  out  that  notion  of  vital  spirits, 
which  prevailed  with  all  his  predecessors,  he  might 
actually  have  made  the  great  discovery  left  for  Har¬ 
vey  to  enunciate.  I  have  not  been  able  to  refer  to 
original  documents  in  this  matter,  but  it  is  claimed 
by  some  that  his  description  of  the  circulation  was 
contained  in  another  religious  work  concerning  the 
Restitution  of  Christianity,  which  was  printed  in 
Nuremburg  in  1790. 

Such  was  the  actual  state  of  knowledge  concern¬ 
ing  the  movements  of  the  blood  and  the  functions  of 
the  heart  when  Harvey  published  his  great  work.  It 
behooves  us  now  to  proceed  with  a  short  account  of 
Harvey’s  own  life  and  researches. 

William  Harvey  was  born  at  Folkstone  on  the  first 
of  April,  1578.  He  was  the  eldest  son  of  a  prosper¬ 
ous  merchant  who  raised  a  large  family  and  who  oc¬ 
cupied  the  highest  positions  of  honor  in  his  own  town. 
The  son  William  was  born  to  his  second  wife,  by 
whom  he  had  seven  sons  and  two  daughters.  All  of 
these  children  were  helped  to  remunerative  or  honor¬ 
able  positions.  They  became  merchants  or  politicians 
or  secured  prominence  in  some  way,  but  William  was 
the  only  one  to  study  medicine.  He  was  sent  to  the 
King’s  school  at  Canterbury,  in  1588,  and  he  was 
admitted  at  Caius,  in  Cambridge,  in  1593,  where  he 
graduated  in  arts  in  1597.  The  following  year  he 
went  to  Padua,  which  then  had  one  of  the  greatest 


334  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


medical  schools  of  the  time,  and  he  obtained  his 
medical  diploma  in  1602,  when  twenty-four  years  of 
age.  Returning  to  England  he  received  a  doctor’s  de¬ 
gree  at  Cambridge,  and  shortly  afterward  married  a 
daughter  of  a  London  physician  and  entered  upon  the 
practice  of  medicine  in  London. 

In  the  great  city  his  practice  as  a  physician  seems 
to  have  been  from  the  outset  successful,  and  his  knowl¬ 
edge  and  ability  procured  him  various  valuable  ap¬ 
pointments.  He  was  made  a  Fellow  of  The  College 
of  Physicians  in  1607.  This  Royal  College  of  Phys¬ 
icians  was  given  a  grant  of  incorporation  by  Henry 
VIII  in  1518,  at  the  intercession  of  Chambers,  Lin- 
acre  and  Ferdinand  Victoria,  the  King’s  Physicians, 
it  being  under  the  patronage  of  Cardinal  Woolsey. 
The  first  meetings  were  held  at  Linacre’s  house  which 
he  bequeathed  to  the  corporation  at  his  death.  Un¬ 
til  this  College  was  founded  practitioners  of  medicine 
were  licensed  to  practise  by  the  Bishop  of  London 
or  by  the  Dean  of  St.  Paul’s. 

A  few  years  later  Harvey  was  appointed  Physician- 
Extraordinary  to  King  James  I,  and  later  yet,  after 
the  publication  of  his  great  treatise  and  its  dedication 
to  the  King,  he  was  made  Physician-in-Ordinary  to 
Charles  I,  whom  he  attended  during  the  Civil  Wars. 

It  must  have  been  about  1615  when  Harvey  first 
began  expounding  his  views  on  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  during  lectures  which  were  delivered  at  The 
College  of  Physicians,  but  it  was  not  until  thirteen 
years  later?  i.  e.,  in  1628,  that  his  great  work  DE 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  335 


MOTU  CORDIS  was  published  in  Latin,  as  was  cus¬ 
tomary  among  scholars,  and  at  Frankfort-on-the- 
Main,  since  that  was  then  the  great  center  of  the  book 
publishing  trade. 

The  treatise  was  dedicated  to  King  Charles  I,  in  a 
manner  which  to  us  would  seem  servile,  and  yet  which 
was  according  to  a  custom  followed  by  nearly  all  of 
the  scholars  of  the  day,  who  desired  to  attract  not 
only  the  attention  of  royalty,  but,  in  most  instances, 
their  benevolent  assistance.  It  is  worth  while  to  quote 
at  this  point  the  first  sentence  or  two  of  his  dedication : 

“To  the 

Most  Serene  and  Invincible 
CHARLES, 

of  Great  Britain,  France  and  Ireland, 

KING:  DEFENDER  of  the  FAITH, 

Most  Serene  King, 

“The  heart  of  animals  is  the  basis  of  their  life, 
the  principle  of  the  whole,  the  Sun  of  their  Micro¬ 
cosm,  that  upon  which  all  movement  depends,  from 
which  all  strength  proceeds.  The  King  in  like  man¬ 
ner  is  the  basis  of  his  Kingdom,  the  Sun  of  his  World, 
the  heart  of  the  Commonwealth,  whence  all  power 
derives,  all  grace  appears.  What  I  have  here  writ¬ 
ten  of  the  movements  of  the  heart  I  am  the  more 
emboldened  to  present  to  your  Majesty,  according  to 
the  Custom  of  the  present  age,  because  nearly  all 
things  human  are  done  after  human  examples  and 


336  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


many  things  in  the  King  are  after  the  pattern  of  the 
heart.” 

The  dedication  was  followed  by  a  Proemium  which 
one  may  hardly  read  to-day  without  emotion.  In  it 
he  sets  forth  the  mystery  that  has  surrounded  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  the  motion  and  function  of  the  heart,  as  well 
as  the  attendant  difficulties  of  the  subject,  speaking 
of  his  own  early  despair  that  he  would  ever  be  able  to 
clear  up  the  subject.  He  even  said  that  at  one  time 
he  found  the  matter  so  beset  with  difficulties  that  he 
was  inclined  to  agree  with  Fracastorius  “that  the 
movements  of  the  heart  and  their  purpose  could  be 
comprehended  by  God  alone.”  Only  later  was  this 
despair  dispelled  by  a  suggestion  when,  as  he  says: 
“I  began  to  think  whether  there  might  not  be  a  move¬ 
ment  in  a  circle”  when  thus  the  truth  dawned  fully 
upon  him. 

We  shall  have  to  speak  later  of  the  opposition  pro¬ 
voked  by  the  appearance  of  this  work  and  its  almost 
general  rejection.  It  is  perhaps,  however,  but  just  to 
those  who  disputed  Harvey’s  discoveries  to  recall  that 
no  complete  and  actual  demonstration  of  the  actual 
circulation  was  possible  at  that  time,  nor  for  many 
years  after,  and  until  the  introduction  of  the  micro¬ 
scope,  the  common  magnifying  glass  of  that  day  be¬ 
ing  the  only  lens  in  use.  It  remained  for  Malpighi  to 
demonstrate  the  blood  actually  in  circulation  in  the 
lung  of  a  frog  some  three  or  four  years  after  Harvey’s 
death,  in  1657.  But  Harvey  lived  long  enough  to 
see  his  views  gain  general  acceptance,  and  though  at 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  337 


first,  and  as  the  result  of  the  opposition  provoked  by 
his  publication,  his  practice  fell  off  mightily,  he  later 
regained  his  professional  position  and  rose  to  the 
highest  eminence,  being  elected  in  1654  to  the  Presi¬ 
dency  of  the  College  of  Physicians.  To  this  institu¬ 
tion  he  proved  a  great  benefactor,  making  consider¬ 
able  additions  to  the  building  after  its  destruction  in 
The  Great  Fire  of  1666  and  its  subsequent  restora¬ 
tion.  He  also  left  a  certain  sum  of  money  as  a  foun¬ 
dation  for  an  annual  oration,  to  be  delivered  in  com¬ 
memoration  of  those  who  had  been  great  benefactors 
of  the  College.  This  oration  is  still  regularly  deliv¬ 
ered  on  St.  Luke’s  Day,  i.  e.,  the  18th  of  October, 
and  is  ordinarily  known  as  the  Harveian  oration.  In 
these  orations  more  or  less  reference  to  Harvey’s  work 
and  influence  is  always  made. 

This  great  man  passed  away  on  the  3d  of  June, 
1657,  within  ten  months  of  his  eightieth  birthday, 
thus  affording  a  brilliant  exception  to  the  list  of  men 
who  have  rendered  great  service  to  the  world  and  not 
lived  long  enough  to  see  it  appreciated. 

As  one  reads  Harvey’s  own  words,  the  wonder  ever 
grows  that  it  should  have  remained  for  him,  after  the 
lapse  of  so  many  centuries,  to  not  only  call  attention 
to  what  had  been  said  by  Galen  but  apparently  for¬ 
gotten  by  his  successors,  namely,  that  “the  arteries 
contained  blood  and  nothing  but  blood,  and,  conse¬ 
quently,  neither  spirits  nor  air,  as  may  be  readily  gath¬ 
ered  from  experiments  and  reasonings,”  which  he 
elsewhere  furnishes.  He  furthermore  shows  how 


338  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


Galen  demonstrated  this  by  applying  two  ligatures 
upon  an  exposed  artery  at  some  distance  from  each 
other,  and  then  opening  the  vessel  itself  in  which  noth¬ 
ing  but  blood  could  be  found.  He  calls  attention  al¬ 
so  to  the  result  of  ligation  of  one  of  the  large  ves¬ 
sels  of  an  extremity,  the  inevitable  result  being  just 
what  we  to-day  know  it  must  be,  and  the  procedure 
terminating  with  gangrene  of  the  limb. 

Not  long  before  Harvey’s  own  publication,  Fab- 
ricius,  he  of  Aquapendente,  had  published  a  work  on 
respiration,  stating  that,  as  the  pulsation  of  the  heart 
and  arteries  was  insufficient  for  the  ventilation  and  re¬ 
frigeration  of  the  blood,  therefore  were  the  lungs 
fashioned  to  surround  the  heart.  Harvey  showed  how 
the  arterial  pulse  and  respiration  could  not  serve  the 
same  ends,  combating  the  view  generally  held,  that 
if  the  arteries  were  filled  with  air,  a  larger  quantity 
of  air  penetrating  when  the  pulse  is  large  and  full, 
it  must  come  to  pass  that  if  one  plunge  into  a  bath 
of  water  or  of  oil  when  the  pulse  is  strong  and  full  it 
should  forthwith  become  either  smaller  or  much  slow¬ 
er,  since  the  surrounding  fluid  would  render  it  either 
difficult  or  impossible  for  air  to  penetrate.  He  also 
called  attention  to  the  inconsistencies  between  this 
view  and  the  arrangement  of  the  prenatal  circulation; 
also  to  the  fact  that  marine  animals,  living  in  the 
depths  of  the  sea,  could  under  no  circumstances  take 
in  or  emit  air  by  the  movements  of  their  arteries  and 
beneath  the  infinite  mass  of  waters,  inasmuch  as  “to 
say  that  they  absorb  the  air  that  is  present  in  the  wa- 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  339 


ter  and  emit  their  fumes  into  this  medium,  were  to 
utter  something  very  like  a  figment;”  furthermore 
“when  the  windpipe  is  divided,  air  enters  and  re¬ 
turns  through  the  wound  by  two  opposite  movements, 
but  when  an  artery  is  divided  blood  escapes  in  one 
continuous  stream  and  no  air  passes.” 

Discussing  further  the  views  which  he  stigmatized 
as  so  incongruous  and  mutually  subversive  that  every 
one  of  them  is  justly  brought  under  suspicion,  he  re¬ 
verts  again  to  the  statements  of  Galen,  calling  atten¬ 
tion  to  the  fact  that  from  a  single  divided  artery  the 
whole  of  the  blood  of  the  body  may  be  withdrawn  in 
the  course  of  half  an  hour  or  less,  and  to  the  inevita¬ 
ble  consequences  of  such  an  act;  also  that  when  an  ar¬ 
tery  is  opened  the  blood  is  emptied  with  force  and  in 
jets,  and  that  the  impulse  corresponds  with  that  of  the 
heart;  again  that  in  an  aneurism  the  pulsation  is  the 
same  as  in  other  arteries,  appealing  for  corroboration 
in  this  matter  to  the  recent  statements  of  Riolan,  who 
later  became  his  avowed  enemy.  Harvey  also  called 
attention  to  the  fact  that  while  ordinarily  there  was  a 
seemingly  fixed  relation  between  respiration  and  pulse- 
rate,  this  might  vary  very  much  under  certain  circum¬ 
stances,  showing  that  respiration  and  circulation  were 
two  totally  different  processes.  Harvey  utilized  also 
the  results  of  his  researches  in  comparative  anatomy 
and  physiology,  for  early  in  his  work  he  called  atten¬ 
tion  to  the  fact  that  every  animal  which  is  unfurnished 
with  lungs  lacks  a  right  ventricle. 

In  his  Proemium  he  then  proceeds  to  ask  certain 


340  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


very  pertinent  questions  which  can  only  be  briefly 
summarized  in  this  place.  He  asks :  First,  why,  inas¬ 
much  as  the  structure  of  both  ventricles  is  practically 
identical,  it  should  be  imagined  that  their  uses  are 
different,  and  why,  if  tricuspid  valves  are  placed  at 
the^  entrance  into  the  right  ventricle  and  prove  ob¬ 
stacles  to  the  return  of  blood  into  vena  cava,  and  if 
similar  valves  are  situated  at  the  commencement  of 
the  pulmonary  artery,  preventing  return  of  blood  into 
the  ventricle,  then  why,  when  similar  valves  are  found 
in  connection  with  the  other  side  of  the  heart,  should 
we  deny  that  they  are  there  for  the  same  purpose  of 
prevention  “here  the  egress”  and  “there  the  regurgi¬ 
tation  of  the  blood?” 

Secondly,  he  asks  why,  in  view  of  the  similarity  of 
these  structures,  it  should  be  said  that  things  are  ar¬ 
ranged  in  the  left  ventricle  for  the  egress  and  regress 
of  spirits,  and  in  the  right  ventricle  for  those  of 
blood? 

Thirdly,  he  enquires  why,  when  one  notes  the  re¬ 
semblance  between  the  passages  and  vessels  connect¬ 
ed  with  the  opposite  sides  of  the  heart,  one  should  re¬ 
gard  one  side  as  destined  to  a  private  purpose,  name¬ 
ly,  that  of  nourishing  the  lungs,  the  other  to  a  more 
public  function?  Furthermore,  he  enquires,  since 
the  lungs  are  so  near,  and  in  continual  movement,  and 
the  vessels  supplying  them  of  such  dimensions,  what 
can  be  the  use  of  the  pulse  of  the  right  ventricle, 
which  he  had  often  observed  in  the  course  of  his  ex¬ 
periments?  He  sums  up  his  inability  to  accept  the 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  341 


explanations  previously  offered  with  a  phrase  which 
reads  rather  strangely,  even  in  original  Latin:  “Deus 
bone !  Quomodo  tricuspides  impediunt  aeris  egres- 
sum,  non  sanguinis.”  i.  e.,  “Good  God!  how  should 
the  mitral  valves  prevent  the  regurgitation  of  air 
and  not  of  blood?” 

He  then  takes  up  the  views  of  those  who  have 
believed  that  the  blood  oozed  through  the  septum  of 
the  heart  from  the  right  to  the  left  side  by  certain  se¬ 
cret  pores,  and  to  them  he  replied  “By  Hercules,  no 
such  pores  can  be  demonstrated,  nor,  in  fact,  do  any 
such  exist.”  Again,  “Besides,  if  the  blood  could 
permeate  the  substance  of  the  septum,  or  could  be 
emptied  from  the  ventricles,  what  use  were  there  for 
the  coronary  artery  and  vein,  branches  of  which  pro¬ 
ceed  to  the  septum  itself,  to  supply  it  with  nourish¬ 
ment?” 

Further  on  in  the  treatise  Harvey  sets  forth  his  mo¬ 
tives  for  writing,  stating  how  greatly  unsettled  had 
become  his  mind  in  that  he  did  not  know  what  he 
himself  should  conclude  nor  what  to  believe  from  oth¬ 
ers.  He  says:  “I  was  not  surprised  that  Laurentius 
should  have  written  that  the  movements  of  the  heart 
were  as  perplexing  as  the  flux  and  reflux  of  Euripus 
had  appeared  to  Aristotle.”  He  apologizes  for  the 
crime,  as  some  of  his  friends  considered  it,  that  he 
should  dare  to  depart  from  the  precepts  and  opinions 
of  all  anatomists.  He  acknowledged  that  he  took  the 
step  all  the  more  willingly,  seeing  that  Fabricius,  who 
had  accurately  and  learnedly  delineated  almost  every 


342  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


one  of  the  several  parts  of  animals  in  a  special  work, 
had  left  the  heart  entirely  untouched. 

Passing  more  directly  to  the  actual  work  of  the 
heart,  he  shows  that  not  only  are  the  ventricles  con¬ 
tracted  by  virtue  of  the  muscular  structure  of  their 
own  walls,  but  further  that  those  fibers  or  bands, 
styled  “Nerves”  by  Aristotle,  that  are  so  conspicuous 
in  the  ventricles  of  larger  animals  when  they  contract 
simultaneously,  by  an  admirable  adjustment,  help  to 
draw  together  all  the  internal  surfaces  as  if  with 
cords,  thus  expelling  the  charge  of  contained  blood 
with  force.  Later  on  he  says  that  if  the  pulmonary 
artery  be  opened,  blood  will  be  seen  spurting  forth 
from  it,  just  as  when  any  other  artery  is  punctured, 
and  that  the  same  result  follows  division  of  the  ves¬ 
sel  which  in  fishes  leads  from  the  heart.  He  furnishes 
a  very  happy  simile  to  prove  that  the  pulses  of  the 
arteries  are  due  to  the  impulses  of  the  left  ventricle 
by  showing  how,  when  one  blows  into  a  glove  all 
of  its  fingers  will  be  found  to  have  become  distended 
at  one  and  the  same  time.  He  quotes  Aristotle,  who 
made  no  distinction  between  veins  and  arteries,  but 
said  that  the  blood  of  all  animals  palpitates  within 
their  vessels  and  by  the  pulse  is  sent  everywhere  sim¬ 
ultaneously,  all  of  this  depending  upon  the  heart. 

It  is  in  Chapter  Five  of  the  treatise  that  he  gives, 
probably  for  the  first  time,  an  accurate  published  ac¬ 
count  of  just  what  transpires  with  one  complete  cycle 
of  cardiac  activity.  The  passage  need  not  be  quoted 
here,  but  deserves  to  be  read  by  everyone  interested  in 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  343 

the  subject,  as  who  should  not  be?  One  sentence, 
however,  is  worth  quotation  or,  at  least,  a  summary, 
as  follows:  “But  if  the  divine  Galen  will  here  al¬ 
low,  as  in  other  places  he  does,  that  all  the  arteries  of 
the  body  arise  from  the  great  artery,  and  that  this 
takes  its  origin  from  the  heart;  that  all  the  vessels 
naturally  contain  and  carry  blood;  that  the  three 
semilunar  valves  situated  at  the  orifice  of  the  aorta 
prevent  the  return  of  the  blood  into  the  heart,  and 
that  they  were  here  for  some  important  purpose, — I 
do  not  see  how  he  can  deny  that  the  great  artery  is  the 
very  vessel  to  carry  the  blood,  when  it  has  attained 
its  highest  triumph  of  perfection,  from  the  heart  for 
distribution  to  all  parts  of  the  body.” 

His  Chapter  Six  deals  with  the  course  by  which 
blood  is  carried  from  the  right  into  the  left  ventricle, 
and  here  one  must  admire  the  large  number  of  ex¬ 
perimental  demonstrations  which  Harvey  had  under¬ 
taken  upon  all  classes  of  animals,  for  he  speaks  even 
of  that  which  occurs  in  small  insects,  whose  circulation 
he  had  studied  so  far  as  he  could  with  the  simple 
lens.  Furthermore  he  described  the  prenatal  circula¬ 
tion,  omitting  practically  nothing  of  that  which  is 
taught  to-day,  showing  that  in  embryos,  while  the 
lungs  are  yet  in  a  state  of  inaction,  both  ventricles  of 
the  heart  are  employed,  as  if  they  were  but  one,  for 
the  transmission  of  blood.  In  concluding  this  chap¬ 
ter  he  again  states  briefly  the  course  of  the  blood,  and 
promises  to  show,  first,  that  this  may  be  so  and,  then, 
to  prove  that  it  really  is  so. 


344  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 

His  Chapter  Seven  is  devoted  to  showing  how  the 
blood  passes  through  the  substance  of  the  lungs  from 
the  right  ventricle  and  then  on  into  the  pulmonary 
vein  and  left  ventricle.  He  alludes  to  the  multitude 
of  doubters  as  belonging,  as  the  poet  had  said,  to  that 
race  of  men  who,  when  they  will,  assent  full  readily, 
and  when  they  will  not,  by  no  matter  of  means ;  who, 
when  their  assent  is  wanted,  fear,  and  when  it  is  not, 
fear  not  to  give  it.  A  little  later  on  he  says:  “As 
there  are  some  who  admit  nothing  unless  upon  au¬ 
thority,  let  them  learn  that  the  truth  I  am  contending 
for  can  be  confirmed  from  Galen’s  own  words,  name¬ 
ly,  that  not  only  may  the  blood  be  transmitted  from 
the  pulmonary  artery  into  the  pulmonary  veins  and 
then  into  the  left  ventricle  of  the  heart,  but  that  this 
is  effected  by  the  ceaseless  pulsation  of  the  heart  and 
the  movements  of  the  lungs  in  breathing.”  He  then 
shows  how  Galen  explained  the  uses  of  the  valves 
and  the  necessity  for  their  existence,  as  well  as  the  uni¬ 
versal  mutual  anastomosis  of  the  arteries  with  the 
veins,  and  that  the  heart  is  incessantly  receiving  and 
expelling  blood  by  and  from  its  ventricles,  for  which 
purpose  it  is  furnished  with  four  sets  of  valves,  two 
for  escape  and  two  for  inlet  and  their  regulation. 

Harvey  then  noted  a  well-known  clinical  fact,  that 
the  more  frequent  or  forcible  the  pulsations,  the  more 
speedily  might  the  body  be  deprived  of  its  blood  dur¬ 
ing  hemorrhage,  and  that  it  thus  happens  that  in  faint¬ 
ing  fits  and  the  like,  when  the  heart  beats  more 
languidly,  hemorrhages  are  diminished  and  arrested. 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  345 


The  balance  of  the  book  is  practically  devoted  to 
further  demonstration  and  corroboration  of  state¬ 
ments  already  made.  A  study  of  this  work  of  Har¬ 
vey’s  illustrates  how  much  respect  even  he  and  his 
contemporaries  still  showed  for  the  authority  of  Ga¬ 
len.  It  shows  still  further  how  nearly  Galen  came  to 
the  actual  truth  concerning  the  circulation.  Had  the 
latter  not  adopted  too  many  of  the  notions  of  his  pre¬ 
decessors  concerning  the  nature  of  the  soul  (Anima) 
and  the  spirits  (Pneuma)  of  man,  he  might  himself 
have  anticipated  Harvey  by  a  thousand  years,  and  by 
such  announcement  of  a  great  truth  have  set  forward 
physiology  by  an  equal  period.  Independent  and 
original  as  Harvey  showed  himself,  he  seems  to  have 
failed  to  get  away  from  the  notion  of  the  vapors  and 
spiritual  nature  of  the  blood  which  he  had  inherited 
from  the  writings  of  Galen  and  many  others.  Nev¬ 
ertheless  he  also  alludes  to  this  same  blood  as  alimen- 
tive  and  nutritive.  We  must  not  forget,  however, 
that  this  was  years  before  Priestly’s  discovery  of  oxy¬ 
gen  and  that  Harvey  had,  like  others,  no  notion  of  the 
actual  purpose  of  the  lungs,  believing  that  the  purifi¬ 
cation  and  revivification  of  the  blood  was  the  office 
of  the  heart  itself. 

Along  with  its  other  intrinsic  merits  Harvey’s  book 
possesses  a  clear  and  logical  arrangement,  the  author 
first  disposing  of  the  errors  of  antiquity,  describing 
next  the  behavior  of  the  heart  in  the  living  animal, 
showing  its  automatic  pumplike  structure,  its  alter¬ 
nate  contractions  and  the  other  phenomena  already 


346  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


alluded  to,  thus  piling  up  facts  one  upon  another  in  a 
manner  which  proved  quite  irresistible.  The  only 
thing  that  he  missed  was  the  ultimate  connection  be¬ 
tween  the  veins  and  the  arteries,  i.  e.,  the  capillaries, 
which  it  remained  for  Malpighi  to  discover  with  the 
then  new  and  novel  microscope,  which  he  did  about 
1657,  showing  the  movement  of  the  blood  cells  in 
the  small  vessels,  and  confirming  the  reality  of  that 
ultimate  communication  which  had  been  held  to  exist. 
Malpighi  discovered  the  blood  corpuscles  in  1665, 
but  it  remained  for  Leeuwenhoek,  of  Delft,  in  1690, 
by  using  an  improved  instrument  to  demonstrate  to 
all  observers  the  actual  movements  of  the  circulating 
blood  in  the  living  animal.  One  historian  has  said 
that  with  Harvey’s  overthrow  of  the  old  teachings  re¬ 
garding  the  importance  of  the  liver  and  of  the  spirits 
in  the  heart  “fell  the  four  fundamental  humors  and 
qualities”  while  Daremberg  exclaims:  “As  in  one  of 
the  days  of  the  creation,  chaos  disappeared  and  light 
was  separated  from  darkness.” 

It  remains  now  only  to  briefly  consider  how  Har¬ 
vey’s  great  discovery  was  received.  To  quote  the 
words  of  one  writer:  “So  much  care  and  circum¬ 
spection  in  search  for  truth,  so  much  modesty  and 
firmness  in  its  demonstration,  so  much  clearness  and 
method  in  the  development  of  his  ideas,  should  have 
prepossessed  everyone  in  favor  of  the  theory  of  Har¬ 
vey;  on  the  contrary,  it  caused  a  general  stupefac¬ 
tion  in  the  medical  world  and  gave  rise  to  great  oppo¬ 
sition.” 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  347 


During  the  quarter  of  a  century  which  elapsed  af¬ 
ter  Harvey’s  announcement  there  probably  was  not 
an  anatomist  nor  physiologist  of  any  prominence  who 
did  not  take  active  part  in  the  controversy  engen¬ 
dered  by  it;  even  the  philosopher  Descartes  was  one 
of  the  first  adherents  of  the  doctrine  of  the  circula¬ 
tion,  which  he  corroborated  by  experiments  of  his 
own. 

Two  years  after  the  appearance  of  Harvey’s  book 
appeared  an  attack,  composed  in  fourteen  days  by 
one  Primerose,  a  man  of  Scotch  descent,  born  and  edu¬ 
cated  in  France,  but  practising  at  Hull,  in  which  he 
pronounced  the  impossibilities  of  surpassing  the  an¬ 
cients  or  improving  on  the  work  of  Riolan,  who  al¬ 
ready  had  written  in  opposition  to  Harvey,  and  who 
was  the  only  one  to  whom  the  latter  vouchsafed  an 
answer.  It  was  Riolan  who  procured  a  decree  of  the 
Faculty  of  Paris  prohibiting  the  teaching  of  Harvey’s 
doctrine.  It  was  this  same  Riolan  who  combated 
with  equal  violence  and  obstinacy  the  other  great  dis¬ 
covery  of  the  age,  namely, — the  circulation  of  the 
lymph. 

One  of  the  earliest  and  fiercest  adversaries  of  Har¬ 
vey’s  theory  was  Plempius,  of  Louvaine,  who,  how¬ 
ever,  gave  way  to  the  force  of  argument  and  who 
finally  publicly  and  voluntarily  passed  over  to  the 
ranks  of  its  defenders  in  1652,  becoming  one  of  Har¬ 
vey’s  most  enthusiastic  advocates. 

Harvey’s  conduct  through  the  controversy  was  al¬ 
ways  of  the  most  dignified  character;  in  fact,  he  rare- 


348  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


ly  ventured  to  reply  in  any  way  to  his  adversaries,  be¬ 
lieving  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the  truths  which 
he  had  enunciated.  His  only  noteworthy  reply  was 
one  addressed  to  Riolan,  then  Professor  in  the  Paris 
Faculty  and  one  of  the  greatest  anatomists  of  his  age, 
to  whose  opinion  great  value  was  always  attached. 
Even  in  debating  or  arguing  against  him,  Harvey  al¬ 
ways  spoke  of  him  with  great  deference,  calling  him 
repeatedly  The  Prince  of  Science.  Riolan  was,  how¬ 
ever,  never  converted,  though  whether  he  held  to  his 
previous  position  from  obstinacy,  from  excess  of  re¬ 
spect  for  the  ancients,  or  from  envy  and  jealousy  of 
his  contemporary,  is  not  known. 

Another  peculiar  spectacle  was  afforded  by  one 
Parisunus,  who  died  in  1643,  a  physician  in  Venice, 
who,  like  Harvey,  had  been  a  pupil  of  Fabricius  of 
Aquapendente,  who  had  been  stigmatized  by  Riolan 
as  an  ignoramus  in  anatomy,  but  who  joined  with  oth¬ 
ers  in  declaring  that  he  had  seen  the  heart  beat  when 
perfectly  bloodless,  and  that  no  beating  of  the  heart 
and  no  sounds  were  to  be  heard  as  Harvey  had  af¬ 
firmed. 

With  the  later  and  more  minute  studies  into  the 
structure  and  function  of  the  heart  we  are  not  here 
concerned.  The  endeavor  has  been  rather  to  place 
before  you  the  sentiments,  the  knowledge  and  the  hab¬ 
its  of  thought  of  the  men  of  Harvey’s  time,  with  the 
briefest  possible  epitome  of  what  they  knew,  or  rather 
of  how  little  they  knew,  to  account  for  this  later  slav¬ 
ish  adherence  to  authority  by  unwillingness  to  rea- 


DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION  349 


son  independently,  or  to  observe  natural  phenomena 
intelligently,  still  less  to  experiment  with  them.  It  is, 
then,  rather  the  brief  history  of  an  epochal  discovery 
than  an  effort  to  trace  out  its  far-reaching  conse¬ 
quences  that  I  have  endeavored  to  give. 

Here  must  close  an  account  which  perhaps  has  been 
to  you  tedious,  and  yet  which  is  really  brief,  of  Har¬ 
vey’s  life  and  labors.  He  lived  to  see  his  views  gen¬ 
erally  accepted  and  to  enjoy  his  own  triumph,  a  pleas¬ 
ure  not  attained  by  many  great  inventors  or  discov¬ 
erers.  Lessons  of  great  importance  may  be  gathered 
from  a  more  careful  study  of  this  great  historical 
epoch,  but  they  must  be  left  to  your  own  powers  of 
reasoning  rather  than  to  what  I  may  add  here.  I 
commend  it  to  you  as  a  fertile  source  of  inspiration, 
and  a  line  of  research  worthy  of  both  admiration  and 
imitation.  Few  men  have  rendered  greater  service 
to  the  world  by  the  shedding  of  blood  than  did  Har¬ 
vey,  in  his  innocent  and  wonderful  studies  of  its 
natural  movement.  Perhaps  it  might  be  said  of  him 
that  he  was  the  first  man  to  show  that  “blood  will 
tell.”  What  he  made  it  tell  has  been  thus  briefly  told 
to  you. 

I  know  not  how  I  may  better  close  this  account  than 
by  quoting  the  concluding  words  of  his  famous  book, 
and  especially  repeating  the  lines  which  he  has  quoted 
from  some  Latin  author  whom  I  have  not  been  able 
to  identify.  His  paragraph  and  his  quotation  are  as 
follows : 

“Finally,  if  any  use  or  benefit  to  this  department  of 


350  DISCOVERY  OF  CIRCULATION 


the  republic  of  letters  should  accrue  from  my  labors, 
it  will,  perhaps,  be  allowed  that  I  have  not  lived  idly, 
and,  as  the  old  man  in  the  comedy  says : 

‘For  never  yet  hath  anyone  attained 
To  such  perfection,  but  that  time,  and  place, 

And  use,  have  brought  addition  to  his  knowledge; 
Or  made  correction,  or  admonished  him, 

That  he  was  ignorant  of  much  which  he 
Had  thought  he  knew;  or  led  him  to  reject 
What  he  had  once  esteemed  of  highest  price.’  ” 


XIII 


HISTORY  OF  ANAESTHESIA  AND  THE  IN¬ 
TRODUCTION  OF  ANAESTHETICS  IN 

SURGERY* 


IN  COMMEMORATION  OF  THE  SEMI-CENTENNIAL  OF 
THE  INTRODUCTION  OF  ETHER  AS  AN 
ANAESTHETIC  AGENT 


IFTY  years  ago  to-day — that  is  to  say,  on 
LJ  the  1 6th  of  October,  1846, — there  occurred 
||  *  an  event  which  marks  as  distinct  a  step  in 

™  human  progress  as  almost  any  that  could  be 
named  by  the  erudite  historian.  I  refer  to  the  first 
demonstration  of  the  possibility  of  alleviating  pain 
during  surgical  operations.  Had  this  been  the  date 
of  a  terrible  battle,  on  land  or  sea,  with  mutual 
destruction  of  thousands  of  human  beings,  the  date 
itself  would  have  been  signalized  in  literature  and 
would  have  been  impressed  upon  the  memory  of  every 
schoolboy,  while  the  names  of  the  great  military  mur¬ 
derers  who  commanded  the  opposing  armies  would 
have  been  emblasoned  upon  monuments  and  the  pages 
of  history.  But  this  event  was  merely  the  conquest 
of  pain  and  the  alleviation  of  human  suffering,  and 
no  one  who  has  ever  served  his  race  by  contributing 


*Commemorative  Address  delivered  at  the  Medical  Depart¬ 
ment,  University  of  Buffalo,  October  16,  1896. 


351 


352  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


to  either  of  these  results  has  been  remembered  be¬ 
yond  his  own  generation  or  outside  the  circle  of  his 
immediate  influence.  Such  is  the  irony  of  fate.  The 
world  erects  imposing  monuments  or  builds  tombs, 
like  that  of  Napoleon,  to  the  memory  of  those  who 
have  been  the  greatest  destroyers  of  their  race;  and 
so  Caesar,  Hannibal,  Genghis  Khan,  Richard  the 
Lion-hearted,  Gustavus  Vasa,  Napoleon  and  hun¬ 
dreds  of  other  great  military  murderers  have  received 
vastly  more  attention,  because  of  their  race-destroying 
propensities  and  abilities,  than  if  they  had  ever  ful¬ 
filled  fate  in  any  other  capacity.  But  the  men  like  Sir 
Spencer  Wells,  who  has  added  his  40,000  years  of 
life  to  the  total  of  human  longevity,  or  like  Sir  Jo¬ 
seph  Lister,  who  has  shown  our  profession  how  to 
conquer  that  arch  enemy  of  time  past,  surgical  sepsis, 
or  like  Morton,  who  first  publicly  demonstrated  how 
to  bring  on  a  safe  and  temporary  condition  of  insen¬ 
sibility  to  pain,  are  men  more  worthy  in  our  eyes  of 
lasting  fame,  and  much  greater  heroes  of  their  times, 
and  of  all  time, — yet  are  practically  unknown  to  the 
world  at  large,  to  whom  they  have  ministered  in  such 
an  unmistakable  and  superior  way. 

This  much,  then,  by  way  of  preface  and  reason 
for  commemorating  in  this  public  way  the  semi-cen¬ 
tennial  of  this  really  great  event.  Because  the  world 
does  scant  honor  to  these  men  we  should  be  all  the 
more  mindful  of  their  services,  and  all  the  more  in¬ 
sistent  upon  their  public  recognition. 

Of  all  the  achievements  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race, 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  353 


I  hold  it  true  that  the  two  greatest  and  most  benefi¬ 
cent  were  the  discovery  of  ether  and  the  introduction 
of  antiseptic  methods, — one  of  which  we  owe  to  an 
American,  the  other  to  a  Briton. 

The  production  of  deep  sleep  and  the  usual  ac¬ 
companying  abolition  of  pain  have  been  subjects  which 
have  ever  appeared,  in  some  form,  in  myth  or  fable, 
and  to  which  poets  of  all  times  have  alluded,  usually 
with  poetic  license.  One  of  the  most  popular  of  these 
fables  connects  the  famous  oracle  of  Apollo,  at  Del¬ 
phi,  whence  proceeded  mysterious  utterances  and  in¬ 
choate  sounds,  with  convulsions,  delirium  and  insensi¬ 
bility  upon  the  part  of  those  who  approached  it.  To 
what  extent  there  is  a  basis  of  fact  in  this  tradition 
can  never  be  explained,  but  it  is  not  improbable  from 
what  we  now  know  of  hypnotic  influence. 

From  all  time  it  has  been  known  that  many  dif¬ 
ferent  plants  and  herbs  contained  principles  which 
were  narcotic,  stupefying  or  intoxicating.  These  prop¬ 
erties  have  especially  been  ascribed  to  the  juices  of  the 
poppy,  the  deadly  nightshade,  henbane,  the  Indian 
hemp  and  the  mandragora,  which  for  us  now  is  the 
true  mandrake,  whose  juice  has  long  been  known  as 
possessing  soporific  influence.  Ulysses  and  his  com¬ 
panions  succumbed  to  the  influence  of  Nepenthe; 
and,  nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  when  crucifixion  was 
a  common  punishment  of  malefactors,  it  was  custom¬ 
ary  to  assuage  their  last  hours  upon  the  cross  by  a 
draught  of  vinegar  with  gall  or  myrrh,  which  had  real 
or  supposititious  narcotic  properties.  Even  the  prophet 


354  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


Amos,  seven  hundred  years  before  the  time  of  Christ, 
spoke  of  such  a  mixture  as  this  as  “the  wine  of  the 
condemned,”  for  he  says,  in  rehearsing  the  iniquities 
of  Israel  by  which  they  had  incurred  the  anger  of  the 
Almighty:  “And  they  lay  themselves  down  upon 
the  clothes  laid  to  pledge  by  every  altar,  and  they 
drink  the  wine  of  the  condemned  in  the  house  of  their 
God,”  (Chap.  II,  verse  8),  meaning  thereby  un¬ 
doubtedly  that  these  people,  in  their  completely 
demoralized  condition,  drank  the  soporific  draught 
kept  for  criminals.  Herodotus  mentions  a  hab¬ 
it  of  the  Scythians,  who  employed  a  vapor 
generated  from  the  seed  of  the  hemp  for 
the  purpose  of  producing  an  intoxication  by  in¬ 
halation.  Narcotic  lotions  were  also  used  for  bathing 
the  people  about  to  be  operated  upon.  Pliny,  who 
perished  at  the  destruction  of  Herculaneum,  A.  D. 
79,  testified  to  the  soporific  power  of  the  preparations 
made  from  mandragora  upon  the  faculties  of  those 
who  drank  it.  He  says:  “It  is  drunk  against  ser¬ 
pents  and  before  cuttings  and  puncturings,  lest  they 
should  be  felt.”  He  also  describes  the  indifference  to 
pain  produced  by  drinking  a  vinous  infusion  of  the 
seeds  of  eruca,  called  by  us  the  rocket,  upon  criminals 
about  to  undergo  punishment.  Dioscorides  relates  of 
mandragora  that  “some  boil  down  the  roots  in  wine 
to  a  third  part,  and  preserve  the  juice  thus  procured, 
and  give  one  cyathus  of  this  to  cause  the  insensibility 
of  those  who  are  about  to  be  cut  or  cauterized.”  One 
of  his  later  commentators  also  states  that  wine  in 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  355 


which  mandragora  roots  have  been  steeped  “does 
bring  on  sleep  and  appease  pain,  so  that  it  is  given 
to  those  who  are  to  be  cut,  sawed  or  burnt  in  any 
parts  of  their  body,  that  they  may  not  perceive  pain.” 
Apuleius,  about  a  century  later  than  Pliny,  advised 
the  use  of  the  same  preparation.  The  Chinese,  in  the 
earlier  part  of  the  century,  gave  patients  preparations 
of  hemp,  by  which  they  became  completely  insensible 
and  were  operated  upon  in  many  ways.  This  hemp 
is  the  cannabis  Indica  which  furnishes  the  Hasheesh 
of  the  Orient  and  the  intoxicating  and  deliriating 
Bhang ,  about  which  travelers  in  the  East  used  to 
write  so  much.  In  Barbara,  for  instance,  it  was  al¬ 
ways  taken,  if  possible,  by  criminals  condemned  to 
suffer  mutilation  or  death. 

According  to  the  testimony  of  medieval  writers, 
knowledge  of  these  narcotic  drugs  was  practically  ap¬ 
plied  during  the  last  of  the  Crusades,  the  probability 
being  that  the  agent  principally  employed  was  this 
same  hasheesh.  Hugo  di  Lucca  gave  a  complete 
formula  for  the  preparation  of  the  mixture,  with 
which  a  sponge  was  to  be  saturated,  dried,  and  then, 
when  wanted,  was  to  be  soaked  in  warm  water,  and 
afterward  applied  to  the  nostrils,  until  he  who  was  to 
be  operated  upon  had  fallen  asleep;  after  which  he 
was  aroused  with  the  vapor  of  vinegar. 

Strangely  enough,  the  numerous  means  of  attaining 
insensibility,  then  more  or  less  known  to  the  common 
people,  and  especially  to  criminals  and  executioners, 
do  not  appear  to  have  found  favor  for  use  during  op- 


356  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


erations.  Whether  this  was  due  to  unpleasant  after¬ 
effects,  or  from  what  reason,  we  are  not  informed. 
Only  one  or  two  surgical  writers  beside  Guy  de  Chau- 
liac  (1498)  refer  in  their  works  to  agents  for  relief 
of  pain,  and  then  almost  always  to  their  unpleasant 
effects,  the  danger  of  producing  asphyxiation,  and 
the  like.  Ambrose  Pare  wrote  that  preparations  of 
mandragora  were  formerly  used  to  avert  pain.  In 
1579,  an  English  surgeon,  Bulleyn,  affirmed  that  it 
was  possible  to  put  the  patient  into  an  anaesthetic  state 
during  the  operation  of  lithotomy,  but  spoke  of  it  as 
a  “terrible  dream.”  One  Meisner  spoke  of  a  secret 
remedy  used  by  Weiss,  about  the  end  of  the  XVII 
Century,  upon  Augustus  II.,  king  of  Poland,  who  pro¬ 
duced  therewith  such  perfect  insensibility  to  pain  that 
an  amputation  of  the  royal  foot  was  made  without 
suffering,  even  without  royal  consent.  The  advice 
which  the  Friar  gave  Juliet  regarding  the  distilled 
liquor  which  she  was  to  drink,  and  which  should  pres¬ 
ently  throw  her  into  a  cold  and  drowsy  humor,  al¬ 
though  a  poetic  generality,  is  Shakespeare’s  recogni¬ 
tion  of  a  popular  belief.  Middleton,  a  tragic  writer 
of  Shakespeare’s  day,  in  his  tragedy  known  as  “Wom¬ 
en  beware  Women,”  refers  in  the  following  terms  to 
anesthesia  in  surgery: 

“I’ll  imitate  the  pities  of  old  surgeons 

To  this  lost  limb,  who,  ere  they  show  their  art, 

Cast  one  asleep;  then  cut  the  diseased  part.” 

Of  course,  of  all  the  narcotics  in  use  by  educated 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  357 


men,  opium  has  been,  since  its  discovery  and  introduc¬ 
tion,  the  most  popular  and  generally  used.  Surgeons 
of  the  last  century  were  accustomed  to  administer 
large  doses  of  it  shortly  before  an  operation,  which, 
if  serious,  was  rarely  performed  until  the  opiate  effect 
was  manifested.  Still,  in  view  of  its  many  unpleasant 
after-effects,  its  use  was  restricted,  so  far  as  possible, 
to  extreme  cases. 

Baron  Larrey,  noticing  the  benumbing  effect  of  cold 
upon  wounded  soldiers,  suggested  its  introduction  for 
anesthetic  purposes,  and  Arnott,  of  London,  systema¬ 
tized  the  practice,  by  recommending  a  freezing  mix¬ 
ture  of  ice  and  salt  to  be  laid  directly  upon  the  part 
to  be  cut.  Other  surgeons  were  accustomed  to  put  their 
patients  into  a  condition  of  either  alcoholic  intoxica¬ 
tion  or  alcoholic  stupor.  Long-continued  compres¬ 
sion  of  a  part  was  also  practised  by  some,  by  which  a 
limb  could,  as  we  say,  be  made  to  “go  to  sleep.”  A 
few  others  recommended  to  produce  faintness  by  ex¬ 
cessive  bleeding.  It  was  in  1776  that  the  arch-fraud 
Mesmer  entered  Paris  and  began  to  initiate  people  in¬ 
to  the  mysteries  of  what  he  called  animal  magnetism, 
which  was  soon  named  mesmerism,  after  him.  Thor¬ 
oughly  degenerate  and  disreputable  as  he  was,  he 
nevertheless  taught  people  some  new  truths,  which 
many  of  them  learned  to  their  sorrow,  while  in  the 
hospitals  of  France  and  England  severe  operations 
were  performed  upon  patients  thrown  into  a  mes¬ 
meric  trance,  and  without  suffering  upon  their  part. 
That  a  scientific  study  of  the  mesmeric  phenomena 


358  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 

has  occupied  the  attention  of  eminent  men  in  recent 
years,  and  that  hypnotism  is  now  recognized  as  an 
agent  often  capable  of  producing  insensibility  to  pain 
is  simply  true,  as  these  facts  have  been  turned  to  the 
real  benefit  of  man  by  scientific  students  rather  than 
by  quacks  and  charlatans. 

In  1799,  Sir  Humphrey  Davey,  being  at  that  time 
an  assistant  in  the  private  hospital  of  Dr.  Beddoes, 
which  was  established  for  treatment  of  disease  by  in¬ 
halation  of  gases,  and  which  he  called  The  Pneumatic 
Institute,  began  experimenting  with  nitrous  oxide 
gas,  and  noticed  its  exhilarating  and  intoxicating  ef¬ 
fects;  also  the  relief  from  pain  which  it  afforded  in 
headache  and  toothache.  As  the  results  of  his  re¬ 
ports,  a  knowledge  of  its  properties  was  diffused  all 
over  the  world,  and  it  was  utilized  both  for  amuse¬ 
ment  and  exhibition  purposes.  Davey  even  wrote  as 
follows  of  this  gas : 

As  nitrous  oxide,  in  its  extensive  operation,  ap¬ 
pears  capable  of  destroying  physical  pain,  it  may  prob¬ 
ably  be  used  with  advantage  during  surgical  opera¬ 
tions  in  which  no  great  effusion  of  blood  takes  place. 

It  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  Colton  and  Wells,  to 
be  soon  referred  to,  derived  encouragement,  if  not  in¬ 
centive,  from  these  statements  of  Davey.  Neverthe¬ 
less,  Velpeau,  perhaps  the  greatest  French  surgeon 
of  his  day,  wrote  in  1839,  that  “to  escape  pain  in 
surgical  operations  is  a  chimera  which  we  are  not 
permitted  to  look  for  in  our  day.” 

Sulphuric  ether,  as  a  chemical  compound,  was 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  359 

known  from  the  XIII  Century,  for  reference  was 
made  to  it  by  Raymond  Lully.  It  was  first  spoken  of 
by  the  name  of  ether  by  Godfrey,  in  the  Transactions 
of  the  London  Royal  Society,  in  1730,  while  Isaac 
Newton  spokeof  it  as  the  ethereal  spirits  of  wine.  Dur¬ 
ing  all  of  the  previous  century  it  was  known  as  a  drug, 
and  allusion  to  its  inhalation  was  made  in  1795  in 
a  pamphlet,  probably  by  Pearson.  Beddoes,  in  1796, 
stated  that  “it  gives  almost  immediate  relief,  both  to 
the  oppression  and  pain  in  the  chest,  in  cases  of  pec¬ 
toral  catarrh.”  In  1815,  Nysten  spoke  of  inhalation 
of  ether  as  being  common  treatment  for  mitigating 
pain  in  colic,  and  in  1816  he  described  an  inhaler  for 
its  use.  As  early  as  1812  it  was  often  inhaled  for 
experiment  or  amusement,  and  so-called  “ether  frol¬ 
ics”  were  common  in  various  parts  of  the  country. 
This  was  true,  particularly  for  our  purpose,  of  the 
students  of  Cambridge,  and  of  the  common  people  in 
Georgia  in  the  vicinity  of  Long’s  home.  It  probably 
is  for  this  reason  that  a  host  of  claimants  for  the  hon¬ 
or  of  the  discovery  appeared  so  soon  as  the  true 
anesthetic  properties  of  the  drug  were  demonstrated. 

There  probably  is  every  reason  to  think  that,  either 
by  accident  or  design,  a  condition  of  greater  or  less 
insensibility  to  pain  had  been  produced  between  1820 
and  1846,  by  a  number  of  different  people,  educated 
and  ignorant,  but  that  no  one  had  the  originality  or 
the  hardihood  to  push  these  investigations  to  the  point 
of  determining  the  real  usefulness  of  ether.  This 
was  partly  from  ignorance,  partly  from  fear,  and 


360  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


partly  because  of  the  generally  accepted  impossibility 
of  producing  safe  insensibility  to  pain.  So,  while  in¬ 
dependent  claims  sprang  up  from  various  sources, 
made  by  aspirants  for  honors  in  this  direction,  it  is 
undoubtedly  as  properly  due  to  Morton  to  credit  him 
with  the  introduction  of  this  agent  as  an  anesthetic  as 
to  credit  Columbus  with  the  discovery  of  the  New 
World,  in  spite  of  certain  evidences  that  some  por¬ 
tions  of  the  American  continent  had  been  touched 
upon  by  adventurous  voyagers  before  Columbus  ever 
saw  it. 

The  noun  “anesthesia”  and  the  adjective  “anesthet¬ 
ic”  were  suggestions  of  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes, 
who  early  proposed  their  use  to  Dr.  Morton  in  a  let¬ 
ter  which  is  still  preserved.  He  suggests  them  with 
becoming  modesty,  advises  Dr.  Morton  to  consult 
others  before  adopting  them,  but,  nevertheless,  states 
that  he  thinks  them  apt  for  that  purpose.  The  word 
anesthesia,  therefore,  is  just  about  of  the  same  age  as 
the  condition  itself,  and  it,  too,  deserves  commemora¬ 
tion  upon  this  occasion. 

As  one  reads  the  history  of  anesthesia,  which  has 
been  written  up  by  a  number  of  different  authors, 
each,  for  the  main  part,  having  some  particular  ob¬ 
ject  in  view,  or  some  particular  friend  whose  claims 
he  wishes  especially  to  advocate,  he  may  find  men¬ 
tioned  at  least  a  dozen  different  names  of  men  who 
are  supposed  to  have  had  more  or  less  to  do  with 
this  eventful  discovery.  But,  for  all  practical  pur¬ 
poses,  one  may  reduce  the  list  of  claimants  for  the 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  361 

honor  to  four  men,  each  of  whose  claims  I  propose 
to  briefly  discuss.  These  men  were  Long,  Wells, 
Jackson  and  Morton.  Of  these  four,  two  were  dent¬ 
ists  and  two  practising  physicians,  to  whom  fate  seems 
to  have  been  unkind,  as  it  often  is,  since  three  of  them 
at  least  died  a  violent  or  distressing  death,  while  the 
fourth  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age,  harassed  at  almost 
every  turn  by  those  who  sought  to  decry  his  reputa¬ 
tion  or  injure  his  fortunes. 

Crawford  W.  Long  was  born  in  Danielsville,  Ga., 
in  1816.  In  1839  he  graduated  from  the  Medical 
Department  of  the  University  of  Pennslyvania.  In 
the  part  of  the  country  where  Long  settled  it  was  a 
quite  common  occurrence  to  have  what  were  known 
as  “ether  frolics”  at  social  gatherings,  ether  being  ad¬ 
ministered  to  various  persons  to  the  point  of  exhila¬ 
ration,  which  in  some  instances  was  practically  un¬ 
controllable.  Long’s  friends  claim  that  he  had  often 
noticed  that  when  the  ether  effect  was  pushed  to  this 
extent  the  subjects  of  the  frolic  became  oblivious  to 
minor  injuries,  and  that  these  facts,  often  noticed, 
suggested  to  his  mind  the  use  of  ether  in  surgical  op¬ 
erations.  There  is  good  evidence  to  show  that  Long 
first  administered  ether  for  this  purpose  on  the  30th 
of  March,  1842,  and  that  on  June  6th  he  repeated 
this  performance  upon  the  same  patient;  that  in  July 
he  amputated  a  toe  for  a  negro  boy,  but  that  the 
fourth  operation  was  not  performed  until  September 
of  1843.  1^44  a  young  man,  named  Wilhite,  who 

had  helped  to  put  a  colored  boy  to  sleep  at  an  ether 


362  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


frolic  in  1839,  became  a  student  of  Dr.  Long’s,  to 
whom  Long  related  his  previous  experiences.  Long 
had  never  heard  of  Wilhite’s  episode,  but  had  only 
one  opportunity,  in  1845, t0  try  it,  again  upon  a  negro 
boy.  Long  lived  at  such  a  distance  from  railroad 
communication  (130  miles)  as  to  have  few  advant¬ 
ages,  either  of  practice,  observation  or  access  to  liter¬ 
ature.  Long  made  no  public  mention  of  his  use  of 
ether  until  1849,  when  he  published  An  Account  of 
the  First  Use  of  Sulphuric  Ether  by  Inhalation  as  an 
Anesthetic  in  Surgical  Operations,  stating  that  he  first 
read  of  Morton’s  experiments  in  an  editorial  in  the 
Medical  Examiner  of  December,  1846,  and  again 
later;  on  reading  which  articles  he  determined  to 
wait  before  publishing  any  account  of  his  own  dis¬ 
covery,  to  see  whether  anyone  else  would  present  a 
prior  claim.  No  special  attention  was  paid  to  Long’s 
article,  as  it  seemed  that  he  merely  desired  to  place 
himself  on  record.  There  is  little,  probably  no  rea¬ 
sonable  doubt  as  to  Long’s  priority  in  the  use  of 
ether  as  an  anesthetic,  although  it  is  very  doubtful 
if  he  carried  it,  at  least  at  first,  to  its  full  extent. 
Nevertheless  Long  was  an  isolated  observer,  working 
entirely  by  himself,  having  certainly  no  opportunity 
and  apparently  little  ambition  to  announce  his  discov¬ 
ery,  and  having  no  share  in  the  events  by  which  the 
value  of  ether  was  made  known  to  the  world.  Long’s 
strongest  advocate  was  the  late  Dr.  Marion  Sims, 
who  made  a  strong  plea  for  his  friend,  and  yet  was 
not  able  to  successfully  establish  anything  more  than 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  363 

has  just  been  stated.  As  Dr.  Morton’s  son,  Dr.  W. 
J.  Morton,  of  New  York,  says,  when  writing  of  his 
father’s  claim:  “Men  used  steam  to  propel  boats  be¬ 
fore  Fuller;  electricity  to  convey  messages  before 
Morse;  vaccine  virus  to  avert  smallpox  before  Jen- 
ner;  and  ether  to  annul  pain  before  Morton.” 

But  these  men  are  not  generally  credited  with  their 
introduction  by  the  world  at  large  and,  he  argues, 
neither  should  Long  or  the  other  contestants  be  given 
the  credit  due  Morton  himself.  In  fact,  Long  writes 
of  his  own  work  that  the  result  of  his  second  experi¬ 
ment  was  such  as  to  make  him  conclude  that  ether 
would  only  be  applicable  in  cases  where  its  effects 
could  be  kept  up  by  constant  use ;  in  other  words,  that 
the  anesthetic  state  was  of  such  short  duration  that  it 
was  to  him  most  unsatisfactory.  Sir  James  Paget 
has  summed  up  the  relative  claims  of  our  four  con¬ 
testants  in  an  article  entitled  Escape  from  Pain,  pub¬ 
lished  in  the  Nineteenth  Century  for  December,  1879. 
He  says : 

“While  Long  waited,  and  Wells  turned  back,  and 
Jackson  was  thinking,  and  those  to  whom  they  had 
talked  were  neither  acting  nor  thinking,  Morton,  the 
practical  man,  went  to  work  and  worked  resolutely. 
He  gave  ether  successfully  in  severe  surgical  opera¬ 
tions;  he  loudly  proclaimed  his  deeds  and  he  com¬ 
pelled  mankind  to  hear  him.” 

Horace  Wells  was  born  in  Hartford,  Vt.,  in  1815. 
In  1834  he  began  to  study  dentistry  in  Boston,  and 
after  completing  his  studies  began  to  practise  in  Hart- 


364  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


ford,  Ct.  He  was  a  man  of  no  small  ingenuity,  and 
devised  many  novelties  for  his  work.  In  December, 
1844,  he  listened  to  a  lecture  delivered  by  Dr.  Col¬ 
ton,  who  took  for  his  subject  nitrous  oxide  gas,  the 
amusing  effects  of  which  he  demonstrated  to  his  au¬ 
dience  upon  a  number  of  persons  who  visited  the  plat¬ 
form  for  that  purpose.  Wells  was  one  of  these. 
Wells,  moreover,  noticed  that  another  young  man, 
who  bruised  himself  while  under  its  influence,  said 
afterward  that  he  had  not  hurt  himself  at  all.  Wells 
then  stated  to  a  bystander  that  he  thought  that  if  one 
took  enough  of  that  kind  of  gas  he  could  have  a  tooth 
extracted  and  not  feel  it.  He  at  once  called  upon  a 
neighboring  dentist  friend  and  made  arrangements  to 
test  the  anesthetic  effects  of  the  gas  upon  himself  the 
next  morning.  Accordingly  Colton  gave  him  the  gas, 
and  Riggs,  the  friend,  extracted  the  tooth;  and  Wells, 
returning  to  consciousness,  assured  them  both  that  he 
had  not  suffered  a  particle  of  pain.  He  began  at  once 
to  construct  an  apparatus  for  its  manufacture.  Dr. 
Marcey,  of  Hartford,  then  informed  Wells  that  while 
a  student  at  Amherst  he  and  others  had  often  inhaled 
nitrous  oxide  as  well  as  the  vapor  of  ether,  for  amuse¬ 
ment,  and  suggested  to  Wells  to  try  ether.  After  a 
few  trials,  however,  it  was  found  more  difficult  to 
administer,  and  Wells  acordingly  resolved  to  adhere 
to  gas  alone.  This  was  in  1844,  two  years  after 
Long’s  obscure  experiments,  of  which,  of  course, 
they  were  ignorant.  In  1845,  Wells  visited  Boston 
for  the  purpose  of  introducing  his  discovery,  and 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  365 


among  others  called  upon  his  former  partner,  Mor¬ 
ton,  trying  to  establish  the  use  of  the  gas.  He  soon 
became  discouraged,  however,  and  returned  to  Hart¬ 
ford,  resuming  his  practice.  There  he  continued  to 
use  gas  for  about  two  years,  but  failed  to  secure  its 
introduction  into  general  surgery,  owing  to  prejudice 
and  ignorance  on  the  part  of  dentists  and  physicians 
alike. 

Wells’s  claims  have  been  advocated  by  many  of 
his  fellow-citizens,  and  in  Bushnell  Park,  in  Hart¬ 
ford,  stands  a  monument  erected  by  the  city  and  the 
state,  dedicated  to  Horace  Wells,  “who  discovered 
anesthesia,  November,  1844.” 

C.  T.  Jackson  was  born  in  Plymouth,  Mass.,  in 
1 805.  He  graduated  in  the  Harvard  Medical  School 
in  1829,  after  which  he  went  abroad,  where  he  re¬ 
mained  for  several  years,  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  most  distinguished  men,  experimented  in  general 
science,  electricity  and  magnetism  and  even  devised  a 
telegraphic  apparatus,  similar  to  that  which  Morse 
patented  a  year  later.  Returning,  in  1835,  he  opened 
in  Boston  a  laboratory  for  instruction  in  analytical 
chemistry,  the  first  of  its  kind  in  the  country.  He  al¬ 
so  made  quite  a  reputation  as  a  geologist  and  min¬ 
eralogist  and  received  official  appointments  from 
Maine,  Rhode  Island,  New  Hampshire  and  other 
states.  In  1845  he  discovered  and  opened  up  copper 
and  iron  mines  in  the  Lake  Superior  district.  In 
1846  and  1847  he  was  much  aroused  by  Morton’s 
experiments  with  sulphuric  ether,  and  claimed  even 


366  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 

that  he  had  suggested  the  use  of  ether  to  Morton, 
claiming  also  that  he  had  himself  been  relieved  of  an 
acute  distress  by  inhalation  of  ether  vapor,  and  that 
it  was  from  reflection  on  the  phenomena  presented 
in  his  own  case  that  the  possibility  of  its  use  for  relief 
of  pain  during  surgical  operations  suggested  itself  to 
him.  This  led  to  a  triangular  conflict  for  the  priority 
of  discovery  between  Wells,  Jackson  and  Morton, 
each  claiming  the  honor  for  himself.  Well’s  health 
soon  gave  way.  He  went  abroad  and  got  recognition 
from  the  French  Institute  and  the  Paris  Academy  of 
Sciences,  which  did  not,  however,  endorse  his  claim 
as  discoverer  nor  accept  nitrous  oxide  as  an  anesthetic. 
Wells  returned  to  find  that  Morton  was  on  the  tide 
of  popular  favor,  the  public  having  endorsed  ether 
as  the  only  reliable  anesthetic.  His  mind  became  un¬ 
balanced,  and  in  a  fit  of  temporary  aberration  he 
ended  his  own  life  in  a  prison  cell,  in  New  York  city 
in  1848. 

Wells  being  out  of  the  way,  Jackson  became  Mor¬ 
ton’s  most  violent  opponent,  and  the  two  indulged 
in  a  most  bitter  fight  and  unseemly  discussion.  A  few 
years  later,  Jackson,  who,  as  remarked,  had  an  ex¬ 
tensive  acquaintance  abroad,  visited  Europe  and  pre¬ 
sented  his  claim  to  the  credit  of  the  discovery  of 
ether  before  various  individuals  and  learned  bodies, 
and  so  well  did  he  work  upon  the  French  Institute  as 
to  be  recognized  as  the  discoverer  of  modern  anes¬ 
thesia.  A  select  committee  of  the  House  of  Repre- 
setatives,  to  whom  in  1854  Congress  referred  the 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  367 


matter,  announced  the  following  conclusions : 

“First,  that  Dr.  Horace  Wells  did  not  make  any 
discovery  of  the  anesthetic  properties  of  the  vapor  of 
ether  which  he  himself  considered  reliable  and  which 
he  thought  proper  to  give  to  the  world.  That  his 
experiments  were  confined  to  nitrous  oxide,  but  did 
not  show  it  to  be  an  efficient  and  reliable  anestheic 
agent. 

“Second,  that  Dr.  Charles  T.  Jackson  does  not 
appear  at  any  time  to  have  made  any  discovery  in 
regard  to  ether  which  was  not  in  print  in  Great 
Britain  some  years  before. 

sje  )|(  »j(  ^  «|/  ^ 

“Fifth,  that  the  whole  agency  of  Dr.  Jackson  in 
the  matter  appears  to  consist  entirely  in  his  having 
made  certain  suggestions  to  aid  Dr.  Morton  to  make 
the  discovery.” 

In  1873,  Jackson’s  mind  gave  way,  and  after  sev¬ 
en  years  of  confinement  in  an  asylum  he  died  in  1880, 
at  the  age  of  75,  having  been  the  recipient  of  many 
honors  from  foreign  potentates  and  learned  societies. 

William  T.  G.  Morton  was  born  in  Charleston, 
Mass.,  in  1819.  After  a  disastrous  experience  in  bus¬ 
iness  he  was  sent  to  Baltimore  in  1840  and  began  the 
study  of  dentistry.  In  1841  he  entered  the  dental 
office  of  Horace  Wells  as  student  and  assistant,  be¬ 
coming  a  partner  in  1842.  In  1843  the  partnership 
was  dissolved,  Wells  removing  to  Hartford,  as  be¬ 
fore  stated.  Morton,  ambitious  for  a  medical  degree, 
entered  his  name  as  a  student  in  the  office  of  Charles 


368  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


T.  Jackson,  in  1844,  and  the  same  year  matriculated 
in  the  Harvard  Medical  •  School,  though  he  never 
graduated.  Having  learned  through  Wells  of  the 
latter’s  successful  use  of  nitrous  oxide  gas,  but  not 
knowing  how  to  make  it,  he  sought  the  advice  of  Dr. 
Jackson,  who  informed  him  that  its  preparation  en¬ 
tailed  considerable  difficulty,  and  inquired  for  what 
purpose  he  wanted  it.  On  Morton’s  replying  that  he 
wished  to  use  it  to  make  patients  insensible  to  pain, 
Jackson  suggested  the  use  of  sulphuric  ether,  as  Mar- 
cey  had  suggested  it  to  Wells  two  years  previously, 
saying  that  it  would  produce  the  same  effect  and  did 
not  require  any  apparatus.  Jackson  also  told  Morton 
of  the  ether  frolics  common  at  Cambridge  among  the 
students.  That  same  evening,  September  30,  1846, 
Morton  administered  ether  to  a  patient  and  extracted 
a  tooth  for  him  without  pain.  The  next  day  he  visit¬ 
ed  the  office  of  a  patent  lawyer,  for  the  purpose  of 
securing  a  patent  upon  the  new  discovery.  This 
lawyer  ascertained  that  Jackson  had  been  intimately 
connected  with  its  suggestion,  and  came  to  the  con¬ 
clusion  that  a  patent  could  not  safely  issue  to  either 
one  independently  of  the  other.  But  Jackson  being 
a  member  of  the  State  Medical  Society,  against  whose 
ethical  code  it  is  to  patent  discoveries  that  pertain  to 
the  welfare  of  patients,  and  fearing  the  censure  of  his 
colleagues,  agreed  at  once  to  assign  his  right  over 
to  Morton,  receiving  in  return  a  10  per  cent,  commis¬ 
sion  upon  all  that  the  latter  made  out  of  it.  Morton, 
as  a  dentist,  having  no  more  compunction  then  than 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  369 


dentists  have  now  upon  the  securement  of  a  patent, 
— in  other  words,  being  actuated  by  no  fine  ethical 
scruples, — secured  the  patent,  and  then  called  upon 
Dr.  J.  Mason  Warren,  one  of  the  surgeons  in  the 
Massachusetts  General  Hospital.  Warren  promised 
his  cooperation  and  appointed  the  16th  of  October, 
1846,  for  the  first  public  trial.  Upon  this  occasion 
the  clinic  room  was  filled  with  visitors  and  students, 
when  Morton  placed  the  young  man  under  the  influ¬ 
ence  of  his  “letheon,”  as  he  called  it  then;  after  which 
Warren  removed  a  tumor  from  his  neck.  The  trial 
was  most  successful.  Another  took  place  on  the  fol¬ 
lowing  day,  and  on  November  7th  an  amputation  and 
an  excision  of  the  jaw  were  made,  both  patients  be¬ 
ing  under  the  influence  of  letheon  and  oblivious  to 
pain.  At  this  time  the  nature  of  the  anesthetic  agent 
was  kept  a  secret,  the  vapor  of  ether  being  disguised 
by  aromatics,  so  as  not  to  be  recognized  by  anyone 
present. 

True  to  the  highest  traditions  of  their  craft,  the 
staff  of  the  Massachusetts  General  Hospital  now  met 
and  declined  to  make  further  use  of  a  drug  whose 
composition  was  thus  kept  secret.  It  was  then  that 
Morton  revealed  the  exact  nature  of  it  as  sulphuric 
ether,  disguised  with  aromatic  oils.  In  a  report  made 
by  the  commissioner  of  patents,  it  was  set  forth  that: 

“For  many  years  it  had  been  known  that  the  vapor 
of  sulphuric  ether,  when  freely  inhaled,  would  intox¬ 
icate  as  does  alcohol  when  taken  into  the  stomach,  but 
that  the  former  was  much  more  temporary  in  its  ef- 


370  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


fects.  But  notwithstanding  the  records  of  its  effects 
to  this  extent,  which  were  familiar  to  so  many,  no  sur¬ 
geon  had  ever  attempted  to  substitute  it  for  the  pal¬ 
liatives  in  common  use  previous  to  surgical  opera¬ 
tions.  That,  in  view  of  these  and  other  considera¬ 
tions,  a  patent  had  been  granted  for  the  discovery.” 

In  1846  an  English  patent  was  obtained. 

Morton  soon  began  the  attempt  to  sell  office  rights, 
as  do  the  dentists  of  to-day,  while  the  medical  profes¬ 
sion  was  then,  as  ever,  antagonistic  to  patents,  hold¬ 
ing  them  to  be  subversive  of  general  good.  His  pat¬ 
ent  was  soon  opposed  and  then  generally  infringed 
upon.  Litigation  followed  without  end,  and  the  gov¬ 
ernment  stultified  itself  by  refusing  to  recognize  the 
validity  of  the  patent  issued  by  itself.  And  so,  with¬ 
out  any  compensation  to  the  discoverer,  ether  soon 
came  into  general  use  in  this  country  as  abroad.  While 
receiving  many  congratulations  from  friends  and  hu¬ 
manitarians,  Morton’s  success  aroused  the  jealousy  of 
some  of  his  professional  brethren,  among  them  one 
Dr.  Flagg,  who  commenced  a  terrible  onslaught  upon 
the  new  application  of  ether  and  its  promoter.  By 
his  machinations  a  meeting  of  Boston  dentists  was 
called  and  a  committee  of  twelve  appointed  to  make 
a  formal  protest  against  anesthesia.  This  committee 
published  a  manifesto  in  the  Boston  Daily  Adver¬ 
tiser,  in  which  all  sorts  of  untoward  effects  and  un¬ 
pleasant  results  were  attributed  to  the  new  anesthetic. 
This  proclamation  was  spread  broadcast,  and  did 
Morton,  for  the  time,  very  much  harm.  Equally 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  371 


obstreperous  was  Dr.  Westcott,  connected  with  the 
Dental  College  in  Baltimore.  He  made  fun  of  Mor¬ 
ton’s  “sucking  bottles,”  as  his  inhalers  were  dubbed; 
and  in  various  of  the  medical  and  secular  journals  of 
the  day,  bitter,  often  foolish  and  absurd,  attacks 
were  made.  The  editors  of  the  New  Orleans  Med¬ 
ical  and  Surgical  Journal  said: 

“That  the  leading  surgeons  of  Boston  could  be  cap¬ 
tivated  by  such  an  invention  as  this,  heralded  to  the 
world  under  such  auspices  and  upon  such  evidences  of 
utility  and  safety  as  are  presented  by  Dr.  Bigelow, 
excites  our  amazement.  Why,  mesmerism,  which  is 
repudiated  by  the  savants  of  Boston,  has  done  a  thou¬ 
sand  times  greater  wonders,  and  without  any  of  the 
dangers  here  threatened.  What  shall  we  see  next?” 

These  and  similar  statements  created  a  very  strong 
prejudice  against  Morton,  who,  in  December,  1846, 
sent  to  Washington,  to  a  nephew  of  Dr.  Warren,  to 
endeavor  to  urge  upon  the  government  the  advantages 
of  employing  ether  in  the  army  during  the  Mexican 
war,  then  in  progress.  The  chief  of  the  Bureau  of 
Medicine  and  Surgery  reported  that  the  article  might 
be  of  some  service  for  use  in  large  hosptials,  but  did 
not  think  it  expedient  for  the  department  to  incur 
any  expense  by  introducing  it  into  the  general  ser¬ 
vice;  while  the  acting  surgeon-general  believed  that 
the  highly  volatile  character  of  the  substance  itself 
made  it  ill-adapted  to  the  rough  usage  it  would  neces¬ 
sarily  encounter  upon  the  field  of  battle,  and  accord¬ 
ingly  declined  to  recommend  its  use. 


372  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


In  January  of  1853,  Morton  demonstrated  at  the 
infirmary  in  Washington,  before  a  congressional  com¬ 
mittee  and  others,  the  anesthetic  effect  of  ether,  which 
he  continued  through  a  dangerous  and  protracted  sur¬ 
gical  operation.  This  was  the  result  of  a  challenge 
to  compare  the  effects  of  nitrous  oxide  and  those  of 
ether,  the  advocates  of  the  former  not  putting  in  an 
appearance. 

The  balance  of  Morton’s  life  seems  to  have  been 
spent  in  continued  jangles.  The  government,  having 
repudiated  its  own  patent,  was  repeatedly  besought 
by  memorials  and  through  the  influence  of  members 
of  Congress  to  bestow  some  testimonial  upon  or  make 
some  money  return  to  Morton  for  his  discovery.  Sev¬ 
eral  times  he  came  near  a  realization  of  his  hopes  in 
this  respect,  when  the  action  of  some  of  his  enemies 
or  the  termination  of  a  congressional  session,  or  some 
other  accident,  would  doom  him  again  to  disappoint¬ 
ment.  The  pages  of  evidence  that  were  printed,  the 
various  reports  issued  through  or  by  government  of¬ 
ficers,  the  memorials  addressed  from  various  individ¬ 
uals  and  societies,  if  all  printed  together,  would  make 
a  large  volume;  but  all  of  these  were  of  no  avail. 
Morton  spent  all  his  means,  as  he  spent  his  energies 
and  time,  in  futile  endeavor  to  get  pecuniary  recogni¬ 
tion  of  his  discovery,  but  was  doomed  to  disappoint¬ 
ment.  He  seemed  alike  a  victim  of  unfortunate  cir¬ 
cumstances  and  of  treachery  and  animosity  upon  the 
part  of  his  opponents.  Especially  did  the  fight  wage 
warm  between  him  and  his  friends  and  Jackson.  Plots 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  373 


to  ruin  his  business  were  repeatedly  hatched  and  his 
life  was  made  miserable  in  many  ways.  Mere  tem¬ 
porary  sops  to  wounded  vanity  and  impaired  fortune 
were  the  honorary  degrees  and  the  testimonials  that 
came  to  him  from  various  institutions  of  learning 
and  foreign  societies.  In  1850  both  Morton  and 
Jackson  received  from  the  French  Academy  prizes 
valued  at  2,500  francs  each.  Finally,  Morton  fell  in¬ 
to  a  state  of  nervous  prostration,  suffered  from  anxi¬ 
ety  and  insomnia,  and  in  a  fit  of  temporary  aberra¬ 
tion  exposed  himself  in  Central  Park,  New  York,  be¬ 
came  unconscious,  and  was  taken  to  St.  Luke’s  hos¬ 
pital,  dying  just  as  he  reached  the  institution,  on  the 
15th  of  July,  1868.  In  Mount  Auburn  cemetery,  in 
Boston,  there  stands  a  beautiful  monument  to  Wil¬ 
liam  T.  G.  Morton,  bearing  this  inscription:  “In¬ 
ventor  and  revealer  of  anesthetic  inhalation,  before 
whom  in  all  time  surgery  was  agony;  by  whom  pain 
in  surgery  was  averted  and  annulled;  since  whom  sci¬ 
ence  has  control  of  pain.” 

Again,  in  the  Public  garden  in  Boston  there  was 
erected,  in  1867,  a  beautiful  monument  to  the  honor 
of  the  discoverer  of  ether,  upon  whom  at  that  time 
they  could  not  decide.  Upon  the  front  are  these 
words:  “To  commemorate  that  the  inhaling  of  eth¬ 
er  causes  insensibility  to  pain,  first  proven  to  the  world 
at  the  Massachusetts  General  hospital,  in  Boston,  Oc¬ 
tober,  A.  D.  1846.”  Upon  the  right  side  are  the 
words:  “  ‘Neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain.’ — 
Revelations.”  Upon  the  left:  “  ‘This  also  cometh 


374  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


forth  from  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  which  is  wonderful  in 
counsel  and  excellent  in  working.’ — Isaiah.”  And  upon 
the  other:  “In  gratitude  for  the  relief  of  human  suf¬ 
fering  by  the  inhaling  of  ether,  a  citizen  of  Boston 
has  erected  this  monument,  A.  D.  1867.  The  gift 
of  Thomas  Lee.” 

Summing  up,  then,  the  claims  of  our  four  contest¬ 
ants  in  the  light  of  a  collected  history  of  the  merits 
of  each,  it  would  appear  that  Wells  first  made  public 
use  of  nitrous  oxide  gas  for  limited  purposes,  but 
failed  to  introduce  it  into  general  professional  use. 
That  Long,  in  an  isolated  rural  practice,  a  few  times 
used  ether,  with  which  he  produced  probably  only 
partial  insensibility  to  pain,  and  that  he  had  appar¬ 
ently  discontinued  its  use  before  learning  of  Morton’s 
researches.  That  Jackson  made  no  claim  to  the  use 
of  the  agent  on  his  own  part,  but  simply  of  having 
suggested  it  to  Morton.  And,  finally,  that  Morton 
quickly  accepted  the  suggestion,  made  careful  and 
scientific  use  thereof,  but  especially,  and  above  all  oth¬ 
er  things,  first  demonstrated  to  the  world  at  large  the 
capability  and  the  safety  of  this  agent  as  an  absolute, 
reliable  and  efficient  anesthetic.  So,  though  Morton 
permitted  his  cupidity  to  run  away  with  finer  ethical 
considerations,  and  attached  a  higher  pecuniary  than 
humanitarian  value  to  sulphuric  ether,  he,  neverthe¬ 
less,  must  be  generally  credited  with  having,  to  use 
the  modern  expression,  “promoted”  its  introduction, 
and  having  shown  to  the  world  at  large  what  an  in¬ 
estimably  valuable  therapeutic  agent  had  been  added 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  375 

to  our  resources  for  the  control  of  pain. 

The  synthetic  compound  known  as  chloroform  was 
discovered  independently  by  three  different  observers 
between  1830  and  1832.  These  were  respectively 
Guthrie,  of  Sackett’s  Harbor,  N.  Y. ;  Soubeiran,  of 
France,  and  Liebig,  of  Germany.  The  honor  of  in¬ 
troducing  it  to  the  profession  as  an  anesthetic  for 
surgical  purposes  is  universally  accorded  to  James  Y. 
Simpson,  then  of  Edinburgh. 

Yet  claim  was  at  one  time  advanced  in  favor  of 
Surgeon-Major  Furnell,  of  the  Madras  Army  Med¬ 
ical  Corps,  who  in  the  summer  preceding  the  an¬ 
nouncement  of  Simpson’s  brilliant  discovery  experi¬ 
mented  with  what  is  known  as  chloric  ether,  which 
is  not  an  ether  at  all,  but  a  solution  of  chloroform  in 
alcohol.  It  is  said  that  he  found  that  it  would  pro¬ 
duce  the  same  results  as  sulphuric  ether,  with  less 
unpleasant  sensations,  and  suggested  its  use  to  Coote, 
a  well-known  London  surgeon.  However,  such  claims 
as  those  made  in  favor  of  Furnell  are  no  more  entitled 
to  recognition  than  are  those  of  Wells  or  Long  in 
the  matter  of  the  introduction  of  ether  to  the  public; 
for  although  individual  observations  were  favorable 
to  the  compound,  it  never  came  to  public  notice  on  this 
surmise. 

Sir  James  Y.  Simpson  was  born  in  18 11,  took 
the  degree  of  doctor  of  medicine  in  1832  and  ad¬ 
vanced  rapidly  in  his  professional  career  until,  in 
January,  1847,  he  was  appointed  one  of  her  majes¬ 
ty’s  physicians  in  Scotland.  Having  already  obtained 


376  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 

a  large  reputation,  particularly  in  midwifery  and  gyn¬ 
ecology,  he  directed  his  special  attention  toward  the 
use  of  anesthetics  in  childbirth,  and  he  had  quickly 
recognized  the  value  of  sulphuric  ether  when  intro¬ 
duced  the  previous  year.  He  sought,  however,  for  a 
substitute  of  equal  power,  having  less  disagreeable 
odor  and  unpleasant  after  effect.  Upon  inquiry  of 
his  friend  Waldie,  Master  of  Apothecaries  Hall  of 
Liverpool,  if  he  knew  of  a  substance  likely  to  be  of 
service  in  this  direction,  Waldie,  familiar  with  the 
composition  of  chloric  ether,  suggested  its  active  prin¬ 
ciple  chloroform ;  with  which  Simpson  experimented, 
and,  upon  the  4th  of  November,  1847,  established 
its  anesthetic  properties.  These  he  first  made  known 
to  the  Medico-Chirurgical  Society  of  Edinburgh  in  a 
paper  read  November  10th.  Three  days  later  a  pub¬ 
lic  test  was  to  have  been  made  at  the  Royal  Infirmary, 
but  Simpson,  who  was  to  administer  the  chloroform, 
being  unavoidably  detained,  the  operation  was  done 
as  heretofore  without  an  anesthetic,  and  this  patient 
died  during  the  operation.  You  can  readily  see  that 
had  this  occurred  under  chloroform  it  would  have 
been  ascribed  to  the  new  drug,  which  would  then  and 
there  have  received  its  death  blow.  As  it  was,  the 
first  public  trial  took  place  two  days  later  and  the  test 
was  most  successful. 

One  would  think  that  such  a  boon  as  Simpson  had 
here  offered  to  the  world  would  have  been  gratefully 
— not  to  say  greedily — accepted  by  all.  Simpson’s 
position  was  such  as  to  give  the  new  anesthetic  every 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  377 


advantage  that  his  already  great  reputation  could  at¬ 
tach  to  it,  and  it  became  at  once  the  agent  in  com¬ 
mon  use  in  midwifery  practice.  But  the  Scotch  clergy 
of  his  day  still  possessed  altogether  too  much  of  the 
old  fanatic  spirit  of  the  church  of  the  middle  ages. 
One  is  never  allowed  to  forget,  in  scanning  the  his¬ 
tory  of  medicine,  how  bitterly  the  church  has  opposed, 
until  recently,  every  advance  in  our  science  and  our 
art.  It  was  in  A.  D  995,  for  instance,  that  the  son  of 
one  of  the  Venetian  Doges  was  married,  in  Venice, 
to  a  sister  of  the  emporer  of  the  Eastern  Roman  Em¬ 
pire.  At  the  marriage  feast  the  princess  produced  a 
silver  fork  and  gold  spoon,  table  novelties  which  ex¬ 
cited  both  amusing  and  angry  comment.  But  the 
Venetian  aristocracy  took  up  with  this  new  table  fad, 
and  forks  and  spoons  as  substitutes  for  fingers  soon 
became  the  fashion.  But  the  puissant  church  disap¬ 
proved  most  strongly  even  of  this  arrangement,  for 
priests  went  so  far  as  to  say,  “to  use  forks  was  to  de¬ 
liberately  insult  the  kind  Providence  which  had  given 
to  man  fingers  on  each  hand.”  It  was  this  same  spirit 
that  led  the  Scotch  clergy  to  attack  Simpson  most 
vehemently  and  denounce  him  from  their  pulpits  as 
one  who  violated  the  moral  law,  for  they  said:  “Is 
it  not  ordained  in  Scripture,  ‘in  sorrow  shalt  thou 
bring  forth  children?’  and  yet  this  man  would  intro¬ 
duce  a  substance  calculated  to  mitigate  this  sorrow.” 
We  of  to-day  can  scarcely  imagine  the  rancor  with 
which  these  attacks  were  made  for  many  months. 
Finally,  however,  these  fanatic  defenders  of  the  faith 


378  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


were  routed  by  a  quotation  from  the  same  Scriptures 
in  which  they  claimed  to  find  their  authority;  for 
Simpson,  most  adroitly  turning  upon  them  with  their 
own  weapons,  called  their  attention  to  the  first  chap¬ 
ter  of  Genesis,  in  which  an  account  of  Eve’s  creation 
appears,  and  reminded  them  that  when  Eve  was 
formed  from  the  rib  of  Adam,  the  Lord  “caused  a 
deep  sleep  to  fall  upon”  him.  So  weak  was  their 
cause  that  with  this  single  quotation  their  opposition 
subsided  and  within  a  week  or  two  the  entire  Scotch 
clergy  was  silenced.  Sir  James  Simpson  received 
from  his  own  government  that  which  was  never  ac¬ 
corded  to  Morton:  that  is,  due  recognition  of  the 
great  service  he  had  rendered  humanity.  He  died  in 
1870,  and  upon  his  bust,  which  stands  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  are  the  following  words:  “To  whose  genius 
and  beneficence  the  world  owes  the  blessings  derived 
from  the  use  of  chloroform  for  the  relief  of  suffer- 

•  n 

mg. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  that  I  delay  you  now  with 
an  account  of  all  of  the  other  ethereal  anesthetic 
agents  which  have  from  time  to  time  been  advocated 
since  the  memorable  days  to  which  I  have  devoted 
most  of  my  time  to-night.  Two  only  are  at  present 
ever  thought  of — namely,  bichlorid  of  methylene 
and  bromide  of  ethyl ! — and  these  are  used  by  only  a 
few,  though  each  has  its  advantages.  It  is  well  known 
that  nearly  all  of  the  ethers  have  more  or  less  of  anes¬ 
thetic  property,  coupled  with  many  dangers  and  dis¬ 
advantages.  Sulphuric  ether  and  chloroform  hold 


ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY  379 

the  boards  to-day  as  against  any  and  all  of  their  com¬ 
petitors. 

Nitrous  oxide  gas,  as  already  mentioned,  was 
known  to  and  used  by  Wells,  in  Hartford.  With  the 
advent  of  ether  this  gas  fell  at  once  into  disuse,  to  be 
revived  some  fifteen  years  after  the  death  of  Wells, 
mainly  through  the  use  of  Dr.  G.  Q.  Colton.  Since 
this  time  its  use  has  been  quite  universal,  although 
confined  for  the  main  part  to  the  offices  of  dentists. 
Its  great  advantages  are  ease  of  administration  and 
rapidity  of  recovery,  making  it  especially  useful  for 
their  purposes,  while  the  difficulties  attendant  upon 
prolonged  anesthesia  by  it  makes  it  less  useful  for  the 
surgeon. 

I  will  spend  no  further  time  upon  it  nor  upon  the 
subject  save  to  do  justice  to  modern  anesthesia  by  a 
very  different  method  and  by  means  of  a  very  differ¬ 
ent  drug,  which  is  to-day  in  so  common  use  that  we 
almost  forget  to  mention  the  man  to  whom  we  owe  it. 
I  allude  to  Cocaine  and  its  discoverer,  Roller. 

Cocaine  is  now  such  a  universally  recognized  local 
anesthetic  that  there  is  the  best  of  reason  for  referring 
to  it  here — the  more  so  because  it  affords  another  op¬ 
portunity  to  do  honor  to  a  discoverer,  who  has  ren¬ 
dered  a  most  important  service  to  not  only  our  pro¬ 
fession,  but  to  the  world  in  general. 

This  principal  active  constituent  of  cocoa  leaves 
was  discovered  about  i860  by  Niemann,  and  called 
by  him  cocaine.  It  is  an  alkaloid  which  combines 
with  various  acids  in  the  formation  of  salts.  It  has 


38o  ANAESTHETICS  IN  SURGERY 


the  quality  of  benumbing  raw  and  mucous  surfaces, 
for  which  purpose  it  was  applied  first  in  1862  by 
Schroff,  and  in  1868  by  Moreno.  In  1880,  Van  Aurap 
hinted  that  this  property  might  some  day  be  utilized. 
Karl  Roller  logically  concluded  from  what  was  known 
about  it  that  this  anesthetic  property  could  be  taken 
advantage  of  for  work  about  the  eye,  and  made  a 
series  of  experiments  upon  the  lower  animals,  by 
which  he  established  its  efficiency  and  made  a  brilliant 
discovery.  He  reported  his  experiments  to  the  Con¬ 
gress  of  German  Oculists,  at  Heidelberg,  in  1884. 
News  of  this  was  transmitted  with  great  rapidity,  and 
within  a  few  weeks  the  substance  was  used  all  over 
the  world.  Its  use  spread  rapidly  to  other  branches 
of  surgery,  and  cocaine  local  anesthesia  became  quick¬ 
ly  an  accomplished  fact.  More  time  was  required  to 
point  out  its  disagreeable  possibilities,  its  toxic  prop¬ 
erties  and  the  like,  but  it  now  has  an  assured  and  most 
important  place  among  anesthetic  agents,  and  has 
been  of  the  greatest  use  to  probably  10  per  cent,  of 
the  civilized  world.  To  Roller  is  entirely  due  the 
credit  of  establishing  its  remarkable  properties. 


